


In Nomine Filii

by Iximaz



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: ADHD Character, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bisexuality, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Eventual Relationships, Everyone is Bisexual, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Intersex Character, M/M, Multi, OT4, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Rape Recovery, Reincarnation, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sick Character, Slow Romance, Smut, Time Travel, Trauma, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 74
Words: 203,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iximaz/pseuds/Iximaz
Summary: "The Sleeping Soldier will be met by a hunter, a scholar, and a priest." This was the prophecy of heroes, passed down by the Speakers, and they hadn't been wrong yet.Lucian Enache has always known she was different, and being claimed as her mother's firstborn son and given to the church as a baby is just the tip of the iceberg. It's not until she falls in with the last son of the Belmonts, a Speaker magician, and the son of Dracula himself that she starts to realise just how strange she and her powers really are.As they journey across Wallachia and beyond, it soon becomes clear that the prophecy runs a lot deeper than just defeating the King of Vampires.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades/Original Character(s)
Comments: 244
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](https://imgur.com/yjxRtDp)

* * *

“I warned you. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Brother, please…”

The second voice was low, soft, pleading, and Trevor’s ears pricked as he turned back to the alley he’d passed. 

“You did not listen to me, sir,” an older man said. Trevor crept closer, feeling his blood beginning to pump. _Finally._

“Are you talking back to me?” the first voice demanded. Trevor rounded the corner in time to see a priest brandish his spear at an elderly Speaker, a second priest at his side.

“No, I’m merely talking _to_ you,” the Speaker said, pushing the weapon away. A third priest, more gangly and slight, stepped in front of the Speaker, holding his arms out as he faced his fellows.

“No good will come from threatening others,” he said, his voice still soft. “I beg you, leave him alone—”

The priest with the spear shoved him aside. “Nobody asked _your_ opinion, you little brat,” he snarled, and aimed the spear at the Speaker again.

“Keep walking,” Trevor said under his breath.

“What quarrel do you have with the Speakers?” the old man said. “We are not responsible for the attacks on Gresit—”

“I work within the light of God Himself,” the priest snarled. “You dabble in magic, dark words that turn people away from the church and call demons down every night to attack us!”

The small priest put himself between the spear and the Speaker again, gripping the weapon’s shaft. “You and I both know the Speakers are not responsible,” he said evenly. “Put down your weapon, brother. It is not God’s will to threaten innocent—”

The priest snarled and thrust his spear at the smaller one, who didn’t quite get out of the way in time. The blade pierced his shoulder and he cried out, a high-pitched yell that echoed off the buildings surrounding them. The Speaker leapt back, holding his arms up defensively.

Trevor had seen enough. He sighed, already knowing he was going to regret this decision.

Whip in hand, he lunged, striking the priest in the shoulder and causing him to drop his weapon with a yell of pain. His companioned turned, a blade dropping out of his sleeve. 

“That’s a funny thing for a priest to be carrying,” Trevor said, re-coiling his whip and preparing to strike again. “A thief's knife? If I didn’t—”

The small priest jumped, wrapping his arms around the knife-wielder’s neck and legs around the waist. “Let go!” he hissed, wrestling the knife out of the larger man’s hand. 

Trevor was stunned momentarily, not quite able to believe he was seeing the priests turn on each other, but then his hand shot forward and the whip cracked, and then the knife priest fell to his knees with a scream, clutching his face. His eye had been reduced to a jelly paste, and blood gushed from the destroyed socket. 

  
The small priest let go and scrambled back, staring at Trevor—and then at his mauled brother—in horror.

“I don’t like priests,” Trevor said as he stepped past the one-eyed priest to look at the one he’d struck in the shoulder. “So I’ll give you one chance to leave. Go back to your church, and never bother this man or his people again.”

The priest glared at him, but staggered to his feet and gingerly took the one-eyed priest by the arm, helping him down the alley. Trevor stopped in front of the slight one, staring down at him.

He was on the unusually taller side for a man, and rather delicately boned—not quite handsome, not quite pretty, but with large eyes and arched eyebrows under a mop of mousy brown hair. He remained between Trevor and the Speaker, chin up but trembling slightly.

“You seem to be the exception,” Trevor said, and the priest relaxed. “What’s your name?”

“Father Lucian,” he replied, and his voice was still soft. “Lucian Enache. Thank you for your assistance.” He winced and put a hand to his shoulder; his robes were dark with a growing bloodstain from where he’d been struck.

There was no glow, no flash of light, no familiar tingle of magic, but in the brief space between dropping his hand and tugging the robes to cover his skin more thoroughly, Trevor could see that the wound had vanished. He arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything other than “It was nothing.”

“The violence wasn’t necessary, sir,” the Speaker said, stepping forward. “...But it is appreciated.” He gave Trevor a small smile before turning to Lucian. “Thank you for standing up to the others. It takes a great deal of bravery to go against one’s peers.”

“Or stupidity,” Trevor remarked. “No sense of self-preservation, have you? They’ll be baying for your blood by sundown.”

“I couldn’t stand by and let them intimidate this man,” Lucian said, looking away. “It isn’t right.”

Trevor gave him an appraising look before turning to the Speaker. “And you are?”

“I am the elder of the Codrii Speakers,” the man said. “Thank you for your kindness… and, I think, your restraint.”

“You’re welcome, Elder,” Trevor said, internally sighing. “Can I accompany you to your train?”

“We have settled here in Gresit, no caravans. But I would be glad of your company on the way to our lodging.” The Elder smiled as he turned to leave, and Trevor fell into step beside him, protectively. To his mild surprise, Lucian trailed after them, and he instinctively reached for his whip before remembering the small priest getting in between the Elder and the spear.

“Coming with us, then, eh?” he said, giving Lucian an appraising glance. Now that he had time to think—now that the adrenaline had worn off—there was something about that slight build, the too-delicate features, the low voice coupled with that scream of pain…

Lucian nodded. “I would like to make sure the other Speakers are faring well… if that’s all right.” 

“We would be honoured to host you both,” the Elder said as they took a turn. “May I know your name, sir?”

“It’s Trevor,” he said, and with a wary glance at Lucian, decided to take the plunge. “Belmont. I’m just passing through.”

He noted that Lucian’s eyes widened, but the priest otherwise didn’t react. Interesting.

“I suppose it was rather lucky for the both of us that you were, then,” the Elder said.

“How many are you?” Trevor asked.

“Eleven… though I insist we be counted as twelve,” the Elder said, folding his hands inside his sleeves. “One of us is missing, you see.”

“The church’s doing?” Lucian asked, fists clenching. “They’ve been paranoid of newcomers to the city, but their treatment of the Speakers has been—”

“No, not the church,” the Elder said. “It is a little more complicated than that.” He gestured at a run-down house when it came into view. “This is where we live. Please—come inside. Meet my people.”

Trevor glanced down at Lucian, who looked _very_ uncertain by everything that was happening. He sighed, clapped the priest’s shoulder, and moved to follow the Elder. 

The Elder pushed open the doors, and they were immediately greeted by a small swarm of anxious Speakers.

“Elder, where were you?” one of them asked, gripping his arms. “We were worried about you! I told you it was too soon to go outdoors!”

“And I told you it was necessary to offer aid to the people,” the Elder said, gently disentangling himself.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” the younger Speaker spat, letting go to glare at Lucian, who shrank away. Trevor stepped between them, not yet reaching for his whip but ready to grab it at a moment’s notice.

“I was ambushed by some of the priests,” the Elder said. “But I’m alright, thanks to these men.” He sighed. “Though I fear there may be some trouble ahead because of it.”

Lucian looked away. “My brothers have been… unsympathetic to the people. I worry that they ignore God’s will to care for the weak.”

Trevor snorted. “That’s very noble of you,” he said. “Considering I had to defend both you and the Elder here while you were trying to play peacekeeper.”

He was rewarded with a small flash of anger across Lucian’s face.

“You used violence?” the younger Speaker demanded, face contorting.

“The younger people believe that words can speak louder than actions,” the Elder said, smiling apologetically. 

“Well, you’re Speakers,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. “Words are what you do.”

“You know of us?”

“My family’s always been on good terms with the Speakers, although my father once got into a fight with one,” Trevor said, going to the window. He leaned against the sill, tilting his face into the soft breeze that blew through the opening.

“True Speakers do not fight,” the younger one said, and Trevor could _just_ picture his frown. He suppressed a smirk and turned back.

“He tried to convince a Speaker to have your oral history transcribed onto paper,” Trevor said, and was gratified by the look of shock on the younger Speaker’s face.

“Ah, yes,” the Elder said, moving between his kinsman and Trevor—much to the latter’s disappointment. “We are quite protective of our ways. History is a living thing. Paper is dead. Would you like something to eat?”

  
Trevor spread his hands. “I’d prefer something to drink.”

“Arn, bring our friends some water—”

“Ah—never mind, then,” Trevor interrupted, biting back a sigh.

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary. Thank you,” Lucian said, voice still infuriatingly soft. Trevor grit his teeth, forced himself to relax, and turned toward the priest, straightening up.

“Tell me, are the other priests so hostile to you because they’re aware there’s a woman in their midst, or is it just your infuriatingly calm personality?”

The hut went so silent Trevor could hear the rustling of their robes from the wind that snuck in through the cracks in the walls.

“I’m sorry?” Lucian asked, but from the way her eyes flickered to the door, Trevor knew she was panicking. 

He took a casual step to the side, placing himself between her and easy escape. Lucian’s gaze met his, and he smirked.

“No secrets among us,” he said. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

He saw the set of Lucian’s jaw, but then she bowed her head. “You’re no friend of the clergy,” she murmured. “I trust you won’t tell them of this.”

“You’re already kind of fucked, defending a Speaker against your own so-called brothers,” Trevor pointed out, and Lucian flinched. “What else do you have to lose?”

“Please, do not fight,” the Elder said, stepping between them. “Regardless of the circumstances of one’s birth, this is a place of sanctuary for all.”

Trevor shot a disdainful look at Lucian, but shrugged. “Not my place to go around ratting people out.”

“You could have fooled me,” Lucian said coolly. “After outing me to a group of strangers—”

“Strangers who are just as persecuted by the church as you would be,” Trevor said, waving a dismissive hand. “You put yourself between the Elder and that priest’s blade. You might be a priest, but you’re more decent than most folk I’ve met, so thanks for that.”

Lucian’s cheeks went a blotchy red. “You’ve got a funny way of showing gratitude.”

“Who said I was grateful?” Trevor shot back. “I could have handled it—better if you hadn’t got in my way.”

Lucian folded her arms. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I see somebody in need of help,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just stand off to the side while they’re bullied into submission—”

“That’s _enough_ ,” the Elder said, and Lucian immediately straightened like she’d been slapped. “You _both_ made sacrifices today; do not ruin it by fighting with each other.”

Trevor scoffed and turned away from Lucian—dismissive, uncaring. “You’re awfully quick to defend a member of the church after they were so ready to blame you for the demon attacks.”

“They need to divert people from the truth,” the Elder said, folding his hands in front of him. “How the church brought down Dracula’s wrath on the land.”

Trevor paused and gave the Elder an appraising look. “Really.”

“There were Speakers in Targoviste a year ago,” the Elder said. “The church burned Dracula’s wife at the stake as a witch.”

  
  
“ _...Shit._ ”

“That is indeed one way of putting it.”

Lucian went pale. “I heard talk from the Bishop about it, but I hadn’t realised—”

“So you just thought you’d sit back and idly let the church burn innocents without regard for who they were?” Trevor snarled, reaching for his whip. “You’d let them move in and take over villages and towns and cities without standing up to their tyranny? You would let them chase out so-called heretics without regard for if they were actually ridding the land of those who would dare speak out against them, those who fought monsters for the sake of the common folk and were declared black magicians and devil-worshipers for it?!”

“I wasn’t responsible for that,” Lucian said, and it didn’t escape Trevor’s notice how her hands clenched around the robes that draped by her sides. “If I’d known—but that wouldn’t matter to you, would it? We’re all the same, in your eyes.”

The Elder stepped between them. “Please, do not fight,” he said. “I will not make that request again. You both stood up against the priests to defend me, and for that, I am grateful.”

Trevor snorted, but relaxed his grip on his weapon. “You should get out of here,” he said. “Not all of the priests are as _nice_ as she is.”

Lucian glowered at him, and Trevor returned the look, brows drawing together.

“We cannot leave these people in their time of need,” the Elder said stubbornly. 

The younger Speaker cleared his throat. “You may as well tell him the rest,” he said, and the Elder sighed. 

“In Speaker history, there is an old story. A legend, probably.”

“I like stories,” Trevor said, planting his hands on his hips. A faint smile played around the corners of his mouth.

“The story says that a saviour sleeps under Gresit, a great hero who sleeps until he is needed, until there is a darkness upon the land.”

Trevor tilted his head. “Oh, I’ve heard that one,” he said, recalling the comments of the people he’d talked to earlier that morning. “The sleeping soldier. It’s a local legend.”

“One the church has tried to stamp out,” Lucian said, and Trevor shot a look at her. “They think the people see him as a Christ figure, and in their eyes—”

“It’s hearsay,” Trevor finished. “Charming. I suppose you feel the same.”

Lucian drew herself up to her full height, which was surprisingly taller than Trevor expected. “Just because I wear the vestments does not necessarily mean I share the same views,” she said, a sharp edge to her voice. “I would not presume to know you just because you carry the Belmont name; I would ask you to do the same for me.”

Despite himself, Trevor reluctantly felt a grudging respect for this girl. Woman? It was hard to tell. But she spoke plainly, without malice, and to be frank she was unlike any other priest he’d met before, all self-righteous and holier-than-thou. It was a refreshing change of pace.

“Fine,” he said curtly, and gave a sarcastic bow. “Who am I to deny the will of God?”

Lucian threw a glower in his direction, which he returned with a smirk.

The Elder looked between them and sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry, Elder,” Lucian said, bowing to him. “We are ignoring your hospitality. I think there was something you wanted to share with us?”

“Yes,” the Elder said after a moment. “Though I must first ask how much you know about my people.” 

Trevor glanced sidelong at Lucian, who flushed with embarrassment. “Admittedly, not much that isn’t propaganda,” she said. “The most I know that I _think_ is true is that you’re a nomadic people who share stories with each other to preserve them through the generations.”

“That’s true enough, alright,” Trevor said. “I’m surprised you didn’t include the accusations of witchcraft and devil-worship in your description.”

Lucian’s cheeks somehow managed to go even more red and blotchy. “I try not to listen to those accusations,” she said. “It is only God’s place to judge, so what right do we as humans have to do so?”

“A priest with a conscience,” Trevor snorted. “How original.”

“If you two could stop bickering for five seconds and listen,” the younger Speaker snapped, “You’d know our Elder’s grandchild went to find the soldier and has gone missing!”

“...Oh, hell,” Trevor said, dragging a hand down his face. “And let me guess: you’re not leaving the city until you’ve got the body.”

“It’s not our way to leave our dead unattended to!”

“Quiet, Arn,” the Elder said, but Arn pressed on. 

“We can’t just give up hope so quickly!”

“We’re not just staying for my grandchild,” the Elder said, “but for the people of Gresit. We came to offer them our aid.”

“Somehow, I don’t think they want your help,” Trevor snapped. “I talked to some of the people before I ran into you—they’re planning on giving you the torches-and-pitchforks treatment tonight if you don’t get out of here.”

“We are not going to turn our backs on people in need,” the Elder said stubbornly.

Trevor itched to punch something—the Elder, a wall, maybe the priest—but he turned on his heel, stalking to the window. His jaw set as he looked outside, estimating how much daylight he had left.

“If I go and recover your kid’s body, will you _please_ leave?” he said, shoulders tensing. “Wait outside the city, give your aid to the survivors when the Night Horde finally just rips through this place.”

“You would do that for us?” Arn said, a touch skeptical.

“Look,” Trevor said, turning back. “I know what it’s like to be persecuted by your own country for the accident of your birth. It’s gonna be a pogrom tonight, and none of you are going to make it out alive—and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s a little hard to give your aid to the _good people_ if you’re dead.” He looked at the Elder. “If I find your grandchild, will you leave this city before nightfall?”

The Elder hung his head. “If that is the condition of your recovery, then… yes.”

“Great,” Trevor said, and cracked his knuckles. “Where’d they go?”

“The catacombs, under the mausoleum west of the church.”

“I know the one,” Lucian said. She turned to Trevor. “I can show you the way.” 

Trevor rolled his eyes, but strode to the door, snatching an apple out of a Speaker’s hands as he passed. “I’m leaving now,” he said, and took a bite. “Don’t go walkabouts looking for people to give support to. Stay _right here._ ”

“Belmont.”

He suppressed a groan before turning back to look at the Elder. 

“It is not the dying that frightens us,” the Elder said softly. “It’s living without ever having done our best.”

“I don’t care.” Trevor stepped outside, not bothering to hold the door open for Lucian. “Lead the way, O holy one,” he said around a mouthful of apple.

Lucian nodded, pulled the hood of her robe over her ears against the chilly wind, and set off, Trevor following close behind.

“How does a woman enter the service of the church, anyway?” Trevor asked. Annoyed though he was by her presence, he had to admit he was curious.

Lucian was quiet for a moment, and it didn’t escape him that her eyes automatically flickered sideways, looking for an escape. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to discussing this,” Lucian said, lowering her voice as they passed a group of women. “My father died when I was a babe—my mother named me as a male heir so we would be allowed to keep the house. She pledged me to the church’s service and I became an altar boy when I turned five.”

“And you kept your secret all those years?” Trevor asked skeptically. “When I figured it out in, what, ten minutes?”

He was gratified to see her cheeks go pale pink. “The priests see what they want to see,” Lucian said. “And what they want to see is a small, weak, easily cowed child who never managed to grow a beard.”

Trevor smirked. “So far, I’m not seeing anything to prove them otherwise.”

Lucian stopped dead, and Trevor nearly ran into her. She turned to face him, lifting her chin. “I’m helping you because what they’re doing is evil,” she said. “The Speakers did nothing to deserve this treatment; it’s the least I can do to try and right the wrongs perpetuated by the church.”

“How very noble of you,” Trevor said, already bored. “Keep walking, we’re wasting time.”

Lucian grit her teeth, but turned down a side alley, taking Trevor through back routes that would keep them out of the way of prying eyes.

She would have to figure out what she would do next. Defending the Speaker had been a stupid move, she knew, and helping a Belmont even more so—but she had nothing left to lose, no family left to think about. What did she care if she got excommunicated after her actions that day? 

“Here we are,” she said, stopping at the end of the alley. Trevor discarded the apple core and pushed past her to stride across the churchyard, making a beeline for the mausoleum that was flanked by twisted, dead trees. Lucian glanced around, drew her vestments closer to her (like that would make any difference to their recognisability), and scurried after him.

Trevor cracked the doors open and strode inside, taking a moment to glance at the statues that had been erected as memorials to the deceased. 

“Don’t like this place,” Lucian murmured as they moved deeper inside. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Afraid of the dead, are you?” Trevor said, not bothering to hide the taunting edge in his voice.

“No,” Lucian said, shooting him a glower. “The statues. The weird shadows they throw. I would have to dust in here as punishment growing up—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Trevor muttered, heading for the back wall. A gap in the brickwork caught his eye, and he smirked, going over to a statue and scaling it to reach the gap. He turned back, not expecting Lucian to keep up, but to his surprise she’d used her belt sash to hike her robes up to her knees and was climbing after him.

So the little priest wasn’t totally useless after all. Interesting.

They slid down the slope behind the gap, and Trevor straightened up, squinting into the dim room.

A soft glow emanated from shoulder level, and he turned to see Lucian lifting a hand, a ball of light balanced on her palm. Trevor’s eyebrows went up at that; it was unlike any type of magic he’d ever encountered.

“Never seen a priest able to do that before,” he remarked.

“I don’t think it’s a common skill,” Lucian said dryly, and Trevor inclined his head. 

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” he muttered. Shooting another look at her, he went to one of the torches he spotted ensconced on the walls, pulling it down to sniff. “Fresh oil…” He set the torch against the wall and used the blade of his dagger to strike sparks, igniting it. “Anybody home?” he called, lifting the torch.

“Don’t just shout out like that,” Lucian hissed, and the light in her hand instantly vanished.

Trevor turned to look at her, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “What are you so afraid to find down here? A sleeping soldier to bring down the wrath of your God?”

Lucian’s face contorted. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just know that anyone who comes down here never comes back up. I know you’re a Belmont and all, but I still worry…”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Trevor snorted. He glanced around, and spying a metal pipe affixed to the wall, went to investigate. “Hm.” He rapped the back of his knuckles against it. “Warm. That’s weird.”

“Why are you doing this, anyway?” Lucian asked from by his shoulder, and he whirled, wondering how she’d moved so quietly.

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” he said sarcastically. “I’m a Belmont. This is what we do.”

“You didn’t seem so enthused about the prospect before,” Lucian pressed, and Trevor bit back a groan.

“Listen, I’m about as thrilled as you are by this whole stupid quest,” he said. “I’d much rather just get myself some food and drink, find a nice, tall tree, and watch tonight’s carnage before moving on.”

“And yet, here we are,” Lucian said, stepping around a pile of rubble. “Why?”

“Because I must be insane,” Trevor muttered. He suddenly threw an arm out, stopping her in her tracks. “Wait.”

There was a cracking noise, and then the floor beneath them crumbled. Trevor yelled, and Lucian screamed uncomfortably close to his ear as they fell to the next floor down. Trevor landed on his feet; Lucian landed flat on her stomach, wheezing out a sharp breath.

“Ha!” Trevor said. “Reflexes like a cat.”

The floor collapsed and they found themselves falling again. Trevor slammed into the flagstones with a grunt, and then a gasp when Lucian crashed down on top of him.

“Thanks for breaking my fall,” she choked out, rolling off him.

“No problem,” Trevor said, his voice strained. 

Lucian raised an illuminated hand again, but it soon proved to be unnecessary; glass lanterns bolted to the walls hummed to life, crackling with trapped lightning. Trevor lifted a hand, shielding his eyes from the sudden glare.

“What the…?” Lucian murmured, extinguishing her light. 

The lanterns turned on one by one as they looked around the room, strange shadows thrown off the pillars and broken statues. In the middle of the room stood the statue of a Speaker, robe blown back by an intangible gust of wind, mouth open in a silent scream.

Trevor drew his sword and approached, gently rapping the flat of the blade on the statue’s head. “Either someone left a statue of a Speaker down here, or…”

A loud growl from behind them made them whirl, and Lucian gasped in horror, grabbing the back of Trevor’s cloak as she hid behind him. He groaned as the monster stomped closer, a great mass of walking stone whose footsteps shook the ground.

“Cyclops,” he hissed, and threw Lucian out of the way as the beast’s single eye glowed, an instant before a beam of energy blasted the spot where they’d been standing a moment before.

Trevor didn’t know what happened to Lucian after that, nor did he particularly care. He ducked behind a pillar and flattened himself against it. “Stone-eye cyclops,” he muttered to himself. “Right out of the family bestiary. God shits in my dinner once again. Don’t let that beam hit you!” he called, raising his voice. “You’ll turn to stone if you do!”

He was rewarded with another blast from the thing’s eye, and had to bolt for new cover to avoid being hit. He took shelter behind another pillar and heard Lucian’s voice when the light died. 

“How do we fight this thing?”

“ _We?_ ” Trevor yelled back incredulously, peering around the pillar to try and get a look at his foe. “ _You_ stay out of the way, let me handle this!”

A massive stone hand closed over his head. Trevor’s yell was muffled as he was lifted into the air, neck straining from supporting his entire weight. The cyclops hurled him at the wall, and he hit it with a dull thud before crumpling to the ground. Pain shot through his body, and he clutched his ribs, biting back a groan.

And then Lucian was there, darting between the beast’s legs to grab his shoulders. 

“Stay out of my way!” Trevor snarled, and coughed up blood. Not good.

There was no glow, just like earlier that day in the alley. Lucian’s hands found his chest, and he felt his breathing ease, his ribs shifting back into place.

_The fuck—?_

“Move!” he yelled, and the pair scattered to avoid an eye beam that gouged a small trench where they’d been crouching. 

Trevor ducked behind another pillar, shifted the sword so he was holding it in a reverse grip, and hurled it at the cyclops, snarling when it embedded in the beast’s chest, rather than the eye where he’d been aiming.

“Come on, come on!” Trevor yelled in frustration. “Stop and notice you’re dead!”

Another blast, and Trevor barely made it behind a pillar in time. The hem of his cloak became heavy, and he smashed the stone edge against the pillar to break it off. 

“Bastard!”

Lucian, noticing the cyclops was distracted by Trevor, crept out from her hiding spot, heart in her mouth. She wanted to scream, to run away and hide. Coming down here had been a terrible mistake. But Trevor—damn him, much as she resented his hatred of her—needed her help.

She had no idea what the _hell_ she was doing, but she had to try.

Her palms glowed, and she slapped her hands around the cyclops’ ankle, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes when she felt the thing’s leg become brittle and weak. It roared and jerked its foot, and she was sent flying to slam against a wall. She hit it with a nasty crunching noise and fell to the floor with a groan.

Had to heal. Had to get up to help Trevor.

Trevor was prepared to scream at the girl when he saw what her touch had done to the cyclops. Its ankle began to crack when it took another step, and he realised he had the advantage. It stumbled forward, and with the precision of over a decade of practice, his whip shot forward to wrap around the hilt of the sword. He yanked it free, and the cyclops roared; Trevor sprinted forward, vaulted off the stone Speaker’s head, and kicked the sword into the cyclops’ eye.

The monster fell to its knees before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Behind him came the crackle of magic, and Trevor turned to catch the petrified Speaker in his arms before stone became flesh once more. An odd look passed over her face, and Trevor quickly let go so she could whirl away from him and expel the contents of her stomach.

“You did it,” Lucian rasped, staggering to her feet. Blood dripped from her mouth, but she put a ginger hand to her chest, and when she let go, she straightened up, hacking one last glob of blood on the floor. 

“Damn right I did,” Trevor said, planting his hands on his hips while he watched the Speaker be sick. “Granddaughter, then, is it?” He went to retrieve his sword, yanking it free of the cyclops’ eye. “I wish Speakers wouldn’t do that.”

“What?” the Speaker asked, wiping her mouth.

“Dress the girls like boys.”

“It’s safer when we travel,” the Speaker said, straightening up. “What happened?”

“Your grandfather sent us,” Lucian said. “He and the rest of the Speakers are worried about you.”

“Sent _me_ , more like,” Trevor muttered.

“Well, if we’re being honest, nobody _sent_ us, we came looking on our own,” Lucian said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” the Speaker said. “Thank you for the rescue, I would have—hang on.” She squinted at Trevor. “Did you _climb_ on me?”

“A bit.”

“That was _rude_ ,” the Speaker said, folding her arms.

“He saved your life,” Lucian pointed out.

The Speaker turned to her, eyes going wide when she took in the priest’s vestments. “What are you doing here?”

“Mostly attempting to save your life,” Lucian said. “Trevor did most of the work.”

“At least you acknowledge it,” Trevor muttered. “We came down to recover your remains, but seeing as you’re still alive—no thanks to that cyclops—you can leave the city with the others.”

“What?” the Speaker gasped.

“The city’s planning on running everyone out tonight,” Lucian said softly. “Or just killing them. Your grandfather wouldn’t leave without your body.”

“But the Sleeping Warrior is still down here,” the Speaker protested. 

Trevor snorted disdainfully. “There is no sleeping warrior, just a cyclops waiting for people stupid enough to go looking. It’s a trap for gullible Speakers; you’re not popular around here.” 

“The old wisdom says the tomb is guarded—” the Speaker began, but Trevor waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come on—time to go home. Your people think you’re dead, the least you can do is set that old man’s mind to rest.”

The Speaker bit her lip. “He… thinks I’m dead?”

“He wasn’t much wrong,” Trevor said. “Killing a cyclops is the only way to restore a victim—didn’t think I’d manage it.”

“You were brilliant,” Lucian said. Trevor bit back a sigh, wondering where she thought flattery would get her. “The way you kicked that sword—”

“It was sloppy at best,” he said. “Would have had an easier time of it if _you_ weren’t getting underfoot.”

Lucian opened her mouth, and Trevor crossed his arms.

She closed her mouth.

Trevor smiled.

“Who… are you?” the Speaker asked.

“Trevor,” he said, and glanced at her. “...Belmont.” He’d already told the other Speakers, so it would be a waste of time to be coy with her.

“But the Belmonts fight monsters,” the Speaker protested, and Trevor immediately began reconsidering his decision. 

“I’m out of practice,” he said sharply. “Let’s show you to your grandfather, and then you can come down here and get killed again. Deal?”

The Speaker scoffed. “Very well. I’m Sypha Belnades—”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Trevor said, wondering when people would learn how to take a fucking hint.

“Lucian,” she said, moving closer to Sypha. “Enache. I’m glad you’re alright.”

Sypha softened a little at that. “You helped him?”

“Got in the way, screamed a lot, and needed me to save her sorry ass, more like,” Trevor muttered under his breath.

“I did _not_ ,” Lucian said. “...Scream, anyway. Much.”

“But you _did_ get in my way.”

“You _are_ rude,” Sypha decided.

A crackle of magic ran around the room, and they all turned to look as the rest of the statues—previous victims of the cyclops, broken and smashed from age and abuse—returned to flesh. Sypha bit back a gasp when blood gushed from the shattered limbs, the corpses slumping over from where they’d been frozen in time.

“You’re lucky that wasn’t you,” Trevor said bluntly. “Which way did you come in? I’m afraid the ceiling collapsed when we came to rescue you.”

* * *

“...and just last year, I was ordained by the church,” Lucian said as they approached the hut where the Speakers were living. 

Sypha laughed. “Can you imagine the looks on their faces if they ever knew the truth?”

Lucian didn’t laugh. “I’d rather not,” she said. “I’m rather a fan of staying alive.”

Trevor sighed to himself. The two hadn’t shut up once on their journey out of the catacombs, chattering away like a pair of magpies. It was giving him a headache, and one that needed to be resolved with some good, strong beer at that. “We’re here,” he said, pushing open the door.

The Speakers inside turned at the sound of the door opening, and Trevor stepped aside to reveal Sypha, a bit dusty but otherwise no worse for wear.

The Elder gasped, and Sypha ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” the Elder said. His face was buried against Sypha’s shoulder, but Trevor wasn’t about to spoil their moment of happiness.

“Mhm. You’re welcome,” he said, a flicker of envy burning in his chest at the sight of their embrace. How long had it been since he was last held like that?

“I failed to find the Sleeper, I’m sorry,” Sypha said, voice muffled by her grandfather’s robes.

The Elder gripped her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length to study her. “Oh, hush, my angel,” he said, cupping her chin. “I’m just glad you’ve returned to us alive.”

“I doubt there’s anyone down there,” Trevor said, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. “It’s probably a booby-trapped legend.”

“I had no idea there was a cyclops down there,” Lucian said, wringing her hands. “I’ve never heard of the other priests speak of anything like that—if I’d known, I swear I would have—”

“Oh, save your breath,” Trevor said, shooting her a look. “You’re sorry, we get it. What’s done is done; apologies won’t help anyone now. Just another rumour to lure gullible folk into the monster’s lair.”

“But what if it was down there because there’s something so important it needs guarding?” Sypha insisted as she pulled away from her grandfather. 

“Your Messiah isn’t down there,” Trevor said. His patience was beginning to wear thin. 

Sypha took several steps forward until she was standing in front of Trevor, looking up at him with a fire in her eyes. “And what makes you so sure?”

Trevor met her gaze, a heavy weight settling in his chest. “You Speakers carry information down through the generations,” he said, stepping aside. He looked away, gathering his thoughts. He’d been turning the day’s information over in his mind, and there was only one horrible conclusion he kept coming back to. “We Belmonts pass things down as well. Do you remember what we saw down there? Metal veins pumping hot liquid, torches that light by themselves that exactly fit descriptions written down by my great-grandfather?” He looked at Sypha, any last traces of humour gone. “Descriptions of the inside of Dracula’s castle.”

Sypha’s mouth fell open. Lucian gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth.

“Are you sure?” the priest asked through her fingers, and Trevor levelled a glare at her. She flinched, but didn’t back down. She lowered her hands slightly, looking horrified. “I-I mean, what if you’re wrong? What if there’s… I don’t know, someone else using his techniques down there? Dracula? In Gresit? Surely the city would have fallen by now?”

“It won’t last another day, the rate things are going,” Trevor pointed out. “Dracula’s castle can move; it wouldn’t surprise me if he set up some little base from which to launch his attacks. I don’t know what’s down there, but it’s _not_ a Messiah.” He stalked towards the door. “I’ll leave you all to it.”

“No—no, nonsense,” the Elder said, and Trevor bit back a groan of frustration. “Please, stay with us for as long as you like. I cannot begin to repay what I owe you.”

God, he needed a drink right now. 

“You’re leaving tonight, remember?” Trevor said, stopping in front of the door. “Take the priest girl with you, she’ll be needing protection after what she did for you. I’ll come back later. See if you can’t find some beer,” he added under his breath as he left.

Sypha watched the door close behind him before scoffing. “I could pee in a bucket and tell him it’s beer,” she said. 

“Sypha!” the Elder scolded. “He saved your life!”

“What?” Sypha said defensively. “He’s _rude._ ”

“He’s… rough around the edges,” Lucian said. She picked a spot against the wall and settled on the floor, tucking her robes around her legs for warmth. “I think he’s a good person, just… not a very nice one.”

“He risked his life to save you,” the Elder added, and Sypha rolled her eyes.

“Gang up on me, why not,” she said. “I came back from the dead to be treated like this from my rescuer? I don’t think so!”

Lucian tentatively raised a hand. 

“Not you,” Sypha said. “ _You_ have manners.”

The hand went down. Sypha sighed and went to sit next to her.

“I do appreciate it,” she said, nudging Lucian with her shoulder. “I don’t know how long I would have been down there if it wasn’t for you two.”

“Probably a while,” Lucian said sheepishly. “I’ve tended the catacombs, but I had no idea just how deep under the city they extended… I’m glad you’re alright.”

“What do you think?” Sypha asked. “About the legend?”

Lucian was quiet for a moment. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, frowning at the wall. “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “I think there’s a kernel of truth in there, that there’s _something_ beneath the catacombs, but after what we saw today, I don’t know if I _want_ to know what it is.”

Something small and warm crept into her hand, and she looked down to see Sypha give her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I think he’s real,” she said. “We Speakers have to separate fact from fiction all the time in our line of work. The stories seem too fantastic to be true, but they _have_ to be real.”

“What makes you so sure?” Lucian asked.

“There are some stories passed down through the generations,” the Elder said. He approached with a pair of rough-hewn cups filled with water, which he pressed into their hands. Lucian took an appreciative sip; she hadn’t realised how dry her mouth was. “Most of them from the past. But… there are some legends that are said to come from the future.”

Lucian wrapped her hands around the cup. “The Sleeping Soldier being one of them?”

“Indeed,” the Elder said.

“Seems a bit fantastic to me,” Lucian said, and the Elder smiled.

“Do you not put your faith in a series of stories penned by mankind said to be inspired by the divine?”

Lucian hesitated. Although she was among friends, it still felt _wrong_ to admit to her beliefs. “I _know_ God is real,” she finally said. “We’ve got proof—the holy water, blessings, consecrated items. There’s proof of the divine, just not in the written texts. I’ve studied the Bible all my life, but between all the murder and rape endorsed by a supposedly benevolent being, it’s hard to have any faith in it.”

Sypha laughed. “You know, I hear that’s considered blasphemy,” she teased. Lucian didn’t crack a smile. “Oh, come on, that was funny. You have to admit it’s funny, a priest who doesn’t believe in the Bible.”

Lucian looked away. 

“For what it’s worth, we Speakers don’t exactly hold Him to very high expectations, either,” Sypha said, and nudged her again. “We can both be heretics together.”

Despite herself, Lucian felt the corners of her mouth twitch up in a smile.

“There we go,” Sypha said. She gave Lucian’s hand one last squeeze before letting go to sip at her water. “God is overrated if you ask me, anyway.”


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was beginning to sink low over the horizon when Trevor returned, opening the door and stalking into the hut without any fanfare. The Elder smiled when he saw the hunter. “Trevor! Join us.”

“Sure,” Trevor said. A dark shadow passed over his face. “By the way, you’re all going to die.”

“ _What?_ ” the Elder said. 

“The current bishop of this place is… well, he’s beyond insane,” Trevor said, leaning up against the wall. “Over-the-top and into new lands of just _snake-fuckingly crazy_ , and convinced that the salvation of Gresit lays in you people being torn to pieces by a mob.”

“Evil bastard,” Lucian muttered. “Always sniffing around everyone’s private quarters, trying to suss out the heretics. He’s convinced there’s corruption within the church and he’s made it his personal mission to wipe the city clean of anyone who dares stand against him.”

“You must be a new level of suicidal to stand up to his men like that,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “He wants _your_ head on a pike now, too—still no clue you’re a woman, before you ask,” he added when he saw Lucian’s mouth open. “I didn’t rat you out, don’t get your knickers in a twist. He just thinks you’ve been corrupted and need to be purged for siding with the Speakers who so _obviously_ are engaging in witchcraft and summoning the demon hordes to attack the good people of Gresit.”

“When are they coming?” the Elder asked, his voice low.

“Before sundown,” Trevor said. “According to his logic, you have to die before the night creatures attack the city again.”

The Elder bowed his head. “This feels wrong—to be driven out for a lie that will doom these people? It is not a Speaker thing.”

Trevor turned his head sharply to glare at the Speaker. “We had an agreement,” he snapped. 

“I don’t think it’s a Belmont thing, either—”

“I don’t _care,_ ” Trevor said, venom in his voice. “You need to leave, and leave _now._ ”

Sypha stood up, body taut with anger. “I don’t think we can leave these people, not in their time of need!”

Trevor closed the distance between them, bending down so his face was level with hers. “These people believe you’re _causing_ their time of need!”

“Only because they are being misled by the church,” the Elder protested. He stood up, straightening his robes with that infuriating calmness Trevor was quickly learning to associate with the man. “Does one run away when someone tells lies about them? What have the church said about the Belmonts?”

“How about you ask your new priest friend here?” Trevor said, gesturing at Lucian disdainfully. “Go on—tell them what you’ve been taught. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

Lucian swallowed, glancing between Trevor and Sypha before half-shrinking behind the Speaker.

“Typical priest,” Trevor said. “Hiding from your brethren’s actions.”

“They say that you consorted with demons,” Lucian said, her voice soft. “That you dealt with black magic and witchcraft, and made contracts with Hell and brought Satan’s wrath down on the people.”

Trevor folded his arms, a sarcastic smile playing around his mouth. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “They’ve gotten nicer since we were burned out of the ancestral home.”

“Leave her alone,” Sypha said. “She had nothing to do with that.”

“And yet, she’s complicit in their actions,” Trevor said. “Forgive me for not jumping for joy to be working with a priest.”

“And yet, you stay,” the Elder said. “You keep working with her, and with us, because you know what must be done. Do you run away? No! And yet despite everything you have done for us, you wish to abandon us in our time of need. So where is it you’re running to?”

“Are you calling me a coward?” Trevor asked, feeling his entire body tense up.

The Elder’s voice was so calm, Trevor wished he’d yell or at the very least _frown_ at him for the words that followed. “No. I am calling you defeated, Trevor Belmont. You fought your battle and decided you lost.”

Trevor angrily turned on his heel to glower out the window. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“Perhaps,” Sypha said. “But we do. We carry with us the accumulated wisdom of this great country; we will use that to fight our battle.”

Trevor’s fists clenched on the sill. “You’ll lose.”

“We might well lose,” the Elder said, “but if nothing else, we might show someone that although battles are won and lost, there is a larger war at stake.”

“So, what?” Lucian spoke up, and Trevor looked over at her. She was pale, but she stood up from her spot on the floor. “You hope to accomplish _something_ from your sacrifice. Showing the people that the Speakers are not to blame for the attacks? There’s surely got to be a better way!”

“I hate to say it, but the little priest is the only one talking sense here,” Trevor said. “You’ve got nothing to gain from staying here and dying senselessly.”

“If dying is what it takes to stand up in this war and fight for the souls of our people, then so be it,” the Elder said. 

“You should leave, if you do not wish to help,” Sypha said, a hard edge to her voice.

Trevor grit his teeth, biting back all manner of swearwords and threats. Something, anything, to make the damn fools leave. His hand clenched around the hilt of his whip, and he squared his shoulders. “No,” he said. “You’re leaving. Right. _Now._ ”

* * *

In the catacombs, Sypha paced restlessly back and forth while Lucian sat propped against a pillar, watching her listlessly.

“We cannot just sit here and let him risk himself to defend us!” Sypha said. 

“Half an hour ago you were telling him to leave so you could die like a bunch of martyrs,” Lucian said tiredly, carding her fingers through her shaggy hair.

“Yes, but that was before he decided to pull his head out of his arse and start acting like the Belmont he is,” Sypha said. “Ugh!”

Lucian propped her elbow up on one knee, resting her chin on her hand. “I’m hardly a fighter,” she said. “I don’t know what you propose we should do.”

Sypha stopped in her tracks before whirling to grab Lucian’s hands. “I am a Speaker magician,” she said, and Lucian’s eyes went wide at that. “It’s why I was the one to go down into the catacombs in search of the Sleeping Soldier in the first place—and you helped Trevor take down that monster—” She nodded at the cyclops’ corpse. “—so you can’t be entirely useless in a fight.”

Lucian gingerly pulled her hands back, looking down at her palms before closing her fingers into loose fists. “I… can do some things,” she said uncertainly. “Nothing like anyone else in the clergy that I’ve seen, or any sort of witch or warlock that I’ve read about.”

“What sort of things?” Sypha asked urgently.

“...Healing, mostly,” Lucian said, not quite sure where to look. The Speaker was uncomfortably close to her face. “Sometimes I touch things, broken things, and they become whole again. I don’t really know how else to describe it, it’s just a lot of little incidents over the years I’ve not had the opportunity to experiment with.”

“What better time than the present?” Sypha said, pulling her to her feet. “Come _on_ , you said Belmont saved your life back in that alleyway, and if it weren’t for both of you, I wouldn’t be here, either! We owe it to him to help—he might be a brave warrior, but he’s just one man and quite frankly, judging from the way he reeks of alcohol, I’m not so sure of his abilities at the moment.”

Despite herself, Lucian huffed out a soft noise of amusement.

“Come,” Sypha said, and tugged her by the hand to the exit. “I’m sure you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

“A drunkard, or a priest with no business being a member of the clergy,” Lucian muttered. “I can see you’re absolutely spoiled for options, here.”

* * *

He was out of shape and he knew it. Trevor’s feet pounded against the uneven cobbles of the city’s back alleys, breath catching in his throat. He found himself run into the town centre, where he doubled over at the sight of a mass of people waiting to corner him. He wheezed, hating how tight his chest felt.

“Get him!” 

“Don’t just stand there, finish him off!”

He was _not_ going to end up the same way his family did. He did not survive over a decade of living on his own, wandering from town to town, scavenging from scraps to survive just to die at the hands of an angry mob.

Trevor straightened up, resigning himself to facing down the entire city if he had to.

A thin line of fire raced past his feet and he stepped back, whirling around to look for the source as flames encircled him, cutting him off from the townsfolk.

“A sorcerer!” a man shrieked, falling back. 

Trevor squinted past the firelight, just able to make out the form of Sypha Belnades perched on the crumbling roof of a run-down building. Behind her stood Lucian, a good head taller but looking quite powerless next to the Speaker.

“No,” she cried, the wind whipping her robes around her legs. “I am a Speaker, and a scholar of magic! I serve no demon and I do no evil!” She whirled, bringing her hands around to blast a gust of icy wind at the townsfolk. They scattered, and Sypha drew a line of fire through the parted crowd, splitting it to create walls for Trevor to walk safely between.

“You never told me you were a magician,” he called up to Sypha as he approached.

He could see the gleam of Sypha’s teeth when she grinned. “You never asked!”

“Though I guess now I understand why it was you who went down into the catacombs to look for your sleeping god.”

“That’s what I said!” Lucian said. She crouched at the edge of the roof, smiling. “Alright, then?”

“Could be worse,” Trevor said. “Thanks for the save.”

“I owed you one,” Sypha said. “And now, consider us even.”

Trevor smiled, but then something caught the corner of his eye. He turned, face contorting, when he saw one of the priests who’d attacked the Elder earlier that day. “ _You._ ”

“Kill them! Quickly!” the priest roared, and pointed his knife up at Lucian. “You little _brat_ —I knew there was a reason I never liked you. I should’ve killed you in your sleep when I had the chance. Siding with a Belmont and a witch!”

The crowd murmured uneasily, but Trevor jabbed a finger at him. “No. Just you and me. Come on! You’re very big at telling other people what to do, getting the good people of Gresit to commit _murder_ for you.” He gripped the hilt of his sword and smiled, a feral grin that was all teeth. “Let’s see how you do on your own.”

His smile widened when he saw the townsfolk take several steps away from the priest.

“We should help him,” Lucian said uncertainly.

“You said so yourself, you are no fighter,” Sypha said, and killed the flames. “He has a point to prove; I think it’s best we let him handle this for now.”

“I can see you’re carrying a blade,” Trevor said, moving forward. “I wonder if the people of the great city of Gresit have ever seen a priest draw a knife before.”

Whispers broke out amongst the crowd. 

“Your long knife, my short sword,” he continued, feeling his blood begin to sing in anticipation of the fight. “ _Let’s go._ ”

He saw the priest’s stance shift lower, weapon at the ready, but he hesitated to attack.

“Come on,” Trevor said, his voice taunting. “You had no problem beating an old man and stabbing a boy half your size earlier this morning.”

More murmurs. If he could just get the townsfolk to turn on the church, free them from the tyranny, then he might have a chance.

“Half his size?” Lucian said indignantly. “A few inches shorter at best, come on.”

Sypha put a hand on Lucian’s arm and motioned for her to be quiet.

“You had no problem lying to these people about the Speakers!” His volume rose as he kept talking. 

“The Speakers brought this upon us!” the priest finally spoke back, his voice cracking.

“No, they didn’t—and you know it. The Speakers stayed here to offer aid. It was _your_ bishop who brought all this down on us!”

Sypha touched Lucian’s shoulder. “We should get down there,” she said. Lucian stood, and Sypha gripped her arm; they jumped from the roof, and a gentle gust of wind cushioned their fall. They crept closer, keeping out of sight of the crowd enthralled by Trevor’s story.

“Your bishop who started it all by killing a defenseless woman!” It was tempting to look around at the crowd to gauge their reactions, but he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the priest, making sure every word hit home. “You would have made murderers out of these people, but the only one here who isn’t innocent is _you._ ” He leveled his sword at the priest in an unmistakable challenge.

Pounding footsteps from behind him made him turn, anticipating an attack, but the man ran right past him and plunged his blade into the priest’s chest with a vicious thrust.

The crowd roared, and surged past Trevor like a pack of wolves, descending on their target. The priest’s screams were drowned out by the angry cries of the mob. He smiled humorlessly and re-sheathed his sword, turning to find Sypha and Lucian standing nearby.

Lucian shrank against Sypha’s side. “Sweet mercy… I never liked him, but…”

“I’ll protect you if they try anything,” Sypha promised, flames flickering at her fingertips.

A loud _BOOM_ and an explosion of light and heat erupted behind them; they whirled to stare at the column of flame that shot into the darkening sky. 

“It’s them,” Sypha said, her voice low.

Around them, screams and explosions echoed in the cold night air. Lucian trembled, remembering the last several nights huddled on the bed, knowing that if demons broke into the cathedral there would be nothing stopping them from slaughtering all the priests in their sleep. The Bishop’s actions had driven God from the building a long time ago.

Trevor turned, assessing the situation. His eyes raked over the villagers, taking in their weapons. “Back to the far side of the square!” he bellowed. The people jolted into action, listening to the only man who seemed to be taking charge of the situation. “Pikes, up front, now!”

“What?” yelped a man, clutching his spear closer. “Why?”

“Because I’m the only man here who knows how to fight these things.” Trevor impatiently grabbed the man’s collar and turned to the crowd. “Everyone with a pike or long weapon, get out in front with me!” He dragged the man into position. “Six in front, six behind, and in between, pikes forward!”

The people began moving as he directed, and Trevor turned to Lucian. “You there.”

She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Yes?”

“You said you were ordained by the church— _properly?_ ”

Lucian nodded, swallowing. “Oh!” she said when she realised what he was asking.

“Grab some people, go to the nearest well, start drawing water,” Trevor said. “We’re going to need a lot of it; I’m counting on you to handle the rest.”

“On it!” Lucian turned around, relieved she could do _something_ to help. Terror jolted in her stomach when she realised she was going to give away her secret—but she couldn’t be hung up on that. Trevor—the townsfolk—were counting on her.

She wasn’t going to let any more people lose their family if she could have a say about it.

Lucian cupped her hands to her mouth. “I need people to help me draw water to be blessed!” she bellowed.

“You’re a woman?” a nearby man gasped. 

“Right now what I am is your best chance to survive after him,” Lucian said, gesturing at Trevor. “Come on—you, you, you, and you.” She pointed at a handful of people who were watching uncertainly. “Grab buckets, head to the well in Tanner’s Square! I’m going to find salt!”

She tore off through the streets, sending up a silent prayer that they would listen to her. The market had been abandoned before sundown, largely in thanks to the mob that had been amassed to kill the Speakers. Lucian snorted in disgust as she made a beeline for the spice merchant’s stall, groaning when she saw it was already locked up for the night.

She looked around, spied a loose piece of rubble, and snatched it up, beating it against the padlock. 

“ _Thou shalt not steal_ , indeed,” she muttered, and gave it another whack. The padlock cracked, and Lucian wrenched it off, tearing through the wares in search of salt.

She found it at the back and snatched it up, muttering prayers over it as she sprinted to Tanner’s Square. “ _Exorcizo te, creatura salis, per Deum vivum, per Deum verum, per Deum sanctum, per Deum, qui te per Eliseum Prophetam in aquam mitti jussit…_ ”

She’d never been more grateful the other priests saw something so menial as blessing the waters to be beneath them. Though she raced through the prayer as she ran, she never once stumbled over her words, and was done by the time she’d reached the square.

To Lucian’s immense relief, the townsfolk had gathered with buckets of water, ready and waiting for her. She fell to her knees, sprinkled salt into the first bucket in the sign of the cross, and hastily recited the remainder of the blessing before thrusting the still-glowing bucket at the nearest woman. “Run that back to Tre—the Belmont,” she said. “Come back with more buckets!”

The woman snatched it up and hurried off, and Lucian busied herself blessing the rest of them. She stuffed handfuls of salt into the pockets of her robe before brandishing the container at a man. “Take that to him as well,” she ordered. “He’s going to need this.”

She remained kneeling over the buckets, reciting prayer after prayer until the buckets were all gone and the people she’d recruited had run back to the main square. Lucian could still feel a pinch of salt that still remained in her pockets, and she grabbed the final bucket of water and sprinted after the last runner in time to see Sypha erecting ten foot tall walls of magic ice.

Trevor hurled a bucket of holy water at the lead demon, which shrieked when the water sizzled against its flesh.

“Good to know she isn’t completely useless after all,” Trevor said when Lucian ran up to stand by his elbow.

“I’m _right here_ ,” Lucian said, and yelped when another demon snarled at her. She flung the water into the icy corridor, and the demons roared at the spray of what, to them, was like acid.

“Not bad, Enache,” Trevor said approvingly. “Got a weapon?”

Lucian shook her head.

“Get a blade and wipe it with salt,” Trevor said. “We’re in for a long night. Pikemen!” He raised his voice over the sounds of the demons shrieking. “Four steps forward!”

Lucian ran to where one of the fallen villagers lay, yanking his spear from his grip. She felt her mouth go dry, but plunged the blade into a bucket of salt ( _that_ would have been nice to have earlier) before running to fall into step with the second line.

After all, how could she ask the people to sacrifice themselves for her if she was not willing to do the same?

“Sypha, close the door behind them!” Trevor yelled, and Lucian’s mouth went dry at the sound of ice walls being erected, funnelling the demons right towards them.

“REAR PIKES UP!” Trevor bellowed. Lucian screamed when one of the demons leapt, over the front row of pikes and straight at the back line.

As one, she and the other men swung their weapons up, and Lucian’s entire body shuddered when the demon impaled itself on their blades. 

“CUT HIM DOWN!” 

Another villager wielding a sword lunged, hacking at the demon while Lucian desperately tried to dig in her heels, bracing herself against the force. She heard Trevor yell something behind her, but there was a dull ringing in her ears as she yanked her spear free, only to re-impale the demon. A bucket of holy water went flying overhead, and it exploded into dozens of ice crystals that impaled the demons, burning them on the spot.

One of the demons roared and opened its mouth, chest glowing with internal fire.

“Look out!” Sypha yelled.

Lucian dived to the side to avoid the explosion, and a loud _CRACK_ rang through the air from Trevor’s whip as he deflected the blast. The whip flew over her head to strike the demon before her, and the demon swelled before bursting apart from the inside out. Bits of demon flesh splattered against her face, and Lucian yelped, hastily swiping her hands to rid herself of the clinging skin.

“The whip’s consecrated for fighting vampires and demons,” she heard Trevor say as she scrambled back to them. “SWORDS!”

“What were you doing out there?” Sypha demanded, pulling Lucian behind them. “You could have gotten killed!”

“Can’t leave them when they need me,” Lucian panted.

“We need your talents elsewhere,” Trevor said. “I told you to get a weapon to defend yourself, not go run into danger.” He grit his teeth for a moment before tilting his head. “Those lights you conjured—are they holy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Lucian stammered. "I think so?"

“Well, _try,_ ” Trevor snarled. “You’ve got some weird magic I’ve never seen before, now USE IT!”

Lucian swallowed and nodded, turning to brace herself beside Sypha. She lifted her hands, which began to glow.

A massive demon with shining blue fangs leapt over the swordsmen, straight at them. The trio scattered, Trevor grunting when the beast slashed his arm. Sypha hurled a block of holy ice at the demon, which stepped out of the way of the attack like it wasn’t even concerned.

Lucian raised her hands, nearly stumbling over the words as she hastily recited the prayer. “ _Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem!_ ”

Trevor and Sypha threw up their arms to shield their eyes from the blinding light that exploded from Lucian. Her robes whipped around her legs and she braced herself, feet skidding against the cobblestones from the force of the blast.

When the light died down, she gasped. The demons in the ice corridor had just… vanished.

“The _fuck_ was that?” Trevor demanded.

“I… I don’t know,” Lucian said, looking rather like she’d been hit across the face with a shovel. “I’ve never done an exorcism before.”

“Well, whatever it was, it worked,” Sypha said. “Can you do it again?”

“I, uh…”

Whatever Lucian was going to say was cut off. The stones beneath their feet began to crumble, and then cracked with an ear-splitting sound that left Lucian clutching the sides of her head even as the ground gave out beneath their feet and they plummeted to the depths below.


	3. Chapter 3

Trevor’s hand wrapped around Lucian’s wrist hard enough to bruise, and he pulled her to him, whip shooting out to wrap around Sypha’s waist and yank them together. Sypha twisted in his grip and blasted a gust of wind at the ground, slowing their descent to let them land safely, if not soundly. They tumbled across the floor in a cloud of dust when they hit the ground, and Lucian remained lying facedown, coughing and groaning even as Trevor staggered to his feet and Sypha sat up with a grimace.

“Are we dead?” Lucian rasped.

“Like I should be so lucky,” Trevor muttered. 

Lucian rolled over and managed to get a hand onto her chest in a gesture Trevor was starting to become familiar with. A moment passed, and then she sat up, dusty but otherwise looking none the worse for wear. “Everyone alright?”

“I’m fine,” Sypha said, standing and brushing off her robes. She looked around at the machinery surrounding them and frowned. “Are we… in the catacombs again?”

“Looks like,” Trevor said, climbing to his feet with a soft groan. “We fell quite a ways; I wouldn’t be surprised if we were in the deeper levels.” 

They hesitantly moved forward, hoping to find some sort of exit. Lucian conjured another ball of light in her hand, and Sypha spent a moment exclaiming over it.

Trevor turned, frowning at the machinery, and his hand went to his whip. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

His gut urged him to move, and he lunged out of the way a moment before a section of the wall on either side slammed together on the spot where he’d been standing. Lucian yelped and the light went out, plunging them into darkness.

“Watch out!” Sypha yelled as another section slammed together behind them. Trevor ran back to them when the way was clear, grabbing Sypha’s hand and trusting Lucian to follow. They sprinted down the corridor to the ledge at the end, and without hesitation he leapt when he saw the slope below.

The women followed, and the three went sliding down a steep tunnel to land in a heap at the bottom.

Now that their eyes had a chance to adjust, Trevor could see that it wasn’t totally dark; dim lights glowed from distant corners, enough to faintly illuminate the area. Lucian lifted her arm again, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“Let’s not announce where we are if we can help it,” he said, and she nodded.

Enormous gears slowly clanked away in front of them, and massive steel structures soared towards the ceiling, disappearing into the darkness.

“You don’t think we’re in Dracula’s castle, do you?” Lucian whispered, wide-eyed.

“It seems like a possibility, at least,” Trevor said. “Nobody knows how his castle is supposed to move around. Well, I say nobody, but one of my ancestors might have—”

The floor beneath their feet cracked.

“Oh, _hell_.”

Sypha blasted another gust of wind behind her, using it to leap onto one of the gears. Trevor sprinted forward, Lucian on his heels, and they jumped at the closer one, grabbing hold of the teeth before the floor crumbled away behind them.

“You know,” Lucian panted, and Trevor looked over to see her forearms trembling from the effort of holding on, “you’d think for some powerful, ancient vampire, he could afford to do a little upkeep.”

Trevor snorted and hauled himself a little higher before pulling her up after him. He looked over to see Sypha perched on her own gear, watching them anxiously. 

“Down there,” she called, pointing to the axle that connected the gears. She jumped, wind cushioning her fall, and Trevor jumped down after her, landing in a crouch.

Lucian’s head poked over the top of the gear. “I think I’ll stay here, actually.”

“You’ve got about ten seconds before that gear tips you off the side,” Trevor said impatiently. “Jump!”

Lucian jumped.

Trevor held out his arms, and he caught her under the armpits as she slammed into his chest. He staggered back and set her down, trying not to lose his patience. It wasn’t her fault she’d grown up coddled by the church, not having to run and fight for her life since she was a child.

To say he was resentful would be an understatement.

They met up with Sypha in the middle of the axle, which strangely enough wasn’t rotating despite the turning gears on either side. Trevor looked around, trying to figure out where to go from there, and spied a steel beam on a nearby wall structure that looked close enough to reach with his whip.

It was. He braced his feet on the axle and nodded at the women to cross, tugging his whip taut.

Sypha went first. Trevor’s arms strained from her weight, but she was small and slight, and surprisingly strong for her size. She still seemed _deeply_ uncomfortable inching hand over hand on his makeshift bridge, and really, who could blame her? He knew he’d feel the same in her shoes.

Lucian waited until Sypha was safely on the other side before glancing at Trevor. “Good luck,” she whispered before sitting on the edge of the axle and tentatively grabbing hold of the whip.

“Just _go_ ,” he said through gritted teeth.

Lucian was slender, but she was tall and weighed a good deal more than Sypha. Trevor strained against the whip, wishing she’d hurry up and move faster.

Sypha held out a hand and pulled Lucian up when she reached the beam, and Trevor let out a sigh of relief before wrapping the whip around his wrist and swinging across.

He slammed into the beam below them, which bent and broke off from the rest of the structure.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Trevor groaned when more of the damn things began breaking away. Rubble fell from the ceiling, and he hastened to join Sypha and Lucian on their beam while the gears they’d been standing on tumbled to the floor far, far below, smashing holes through the stone and disappearing with a series of loud, metallic clangs.

With a horrible wrenching noise, the structure tore away from the wall and, almost in slow-motion, began to fall.

They clung to the beams for dear life, screaming when they slammed into the ground and were knocked loose to tumble down yet another hole, landing with a series of undignified thumps on the rubble below.

“... _Ow_ ,” Lucian wheezed.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any more of that healing left in you?” Trevor gasped when he finally caught his breath again. Lucian healed herself first before she shakily clambered over to him, putting her hands on his chest. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she grunted, closing her eyes in concentration. He felt several ribs shift back into place, and he nodded at her before she went over to help Sypha.

Annoying as she was, he had to admit she was useful to have around.

They clambered down the rubble and found themselves standing in a hallway, a long red strip of marble running down the middle like a carpet. At the end of the hall was a raised dais, atop of which was something that looked awfully like a coffin.

“Is this… a tomb?” Lucian whispered as they approached.

Trevor felt the floor sink beneath his foot and he froze when he realised he’d stepped on a pressure plate.

“I didn’t do that,” he said automatically when hidden machinery began whirring. Sypha shot him a glare before they were distracted by what happened next.

Steam hissed from the coffin as the lid slid to the side. Lucian ducked behind Trevor and Sypha, a stressed whine escaping her.

The lid of the coffin hit the floor with a dull clang that reverberated off the walls. And from inside, a youthful man levitated into the air, long blond hair flowing behind him. His arms were crossed over his bare chest, but they could still see a fresh, almost raw scar that stretched from his right hip to the opposite collarbone.

Trevor instantly knew this was bad. Everything about the entire setup screamed vampire, from the coffin to the glass repositories of blood behind it. 

The man’s head bowed, hair falling over his face as he spoke in a low voice. “Why are you here?”

“The story,” Sypha whispered. “The Messiah sleeps under Gresit! The man who will save us from Dracula!”

The man’s head turned towards Trevor, features still hidden from them. “And you?” he asked. “Are you in search of a mythical savior?”

Trevor bit back a snort. “I fell down a hole.” He didn’t yet reach for his whip, but his fingers twitched, wishing he had a weapon in hand. 

The man tilted his head, his hair still hiding his features.

Lucian realised he was looking at her, and she swallowed. “I just sort of ended up with these two?”

The man chuckled softly. “As good a reason as any to follow someone into a crypt.”

“Dracula is abroad in the land,” Sypha said, stepping forward. “He has an army of monsters, he’s determined to wipe out human life wherever he finds it!”

The man’s head turned back to Sypha. “Is that what you believe?”

Trevor cut Sypha off before she could answer. “That Dracula’s released his horde in Wallachia? That’s a fact,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. Closer to his weapons, if he needed to grab them at a moment’s notice. “There’s no ‘belief’ involved.” He gave the vampire an appraising look. “But that’s not what you’re asking.”

“No,” the vampire said. 

Trevor’s guard was already up, but something about the way he said it left him feeling even more uneasy. He pressed on; he _needed_ answers. “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping Messiah who’ll save us, and no, I don’t.”

“Belmont!” Sypha said, affronted. He ignored her; she wanted to believe in her saviour, but he was not blinded by children’s fairytales like she was.

“I know what you are,” he said, his voice low. It did not escape him how the man smiled, languid, catlike, predatory.

“And what am I?”

Trevor felt sweat beading at his temples. He didn’t back down. “You’re a vampire.”

The man lifted his head, hair falling away from his face to reveal a pair of brilliantly yellow eyes. _Inhuman_ eyes.

Sypha gasped, and Lucian’s mouth went dry. Trevor was just gratified they finally seemed to realise the danger they were in; it was hard enough keeping them alive as it was.

“So,” he said, raising his voice, “I have to ask myself, have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Dracula, or did we come here to _wake_ Dracula?”

“You call me Dracula,” the man said, and began to float closer to them.

Trevor shifted his weight into a ready stance. “I’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.”

The man’s toes just brushed the floor of the crypt, not quite standing. “She called you Belmont. House of Belmont?”

“Trevor Belmont,” he said through gritted teeth. “Last son of the house of Belmont.”

The man smirked. “The Belmonts fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations.”

Trevor glanced at Sypha, who just stared back at him uncertainly before glancing at the man.

“Say what you mean,” Trevor said, stalking forward.

“The Belmonts killed vampires,” the man said, unconcerned with his approach. 

“Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around,” Trevor said. He drifted to the side, casually circling around the vampire until he was in a good position to attack. “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution order on the human race.”

The man half-turned to him, looking like some sort of Adonis in the light of the lightning torches. “Do you care, Belmont?”

Trevor stopped, the vampire just behind him and almost out of sight. He almost wished the thing would hurry up and attack so he could get this over with, but he wanted to let it make the first move. Give him an idea of what he was working with.

“Honestly,” he said, bowing his head, “I didn’t, no.” He didn’t like how with just a few words, this creature had already managed to lay bare his deepest insecurities. But he wasn’t about to show it, so he pressed on. “But now… yes. It’s time to stop it.”

He turned back to look at the vampire, but it was Sypha who caught his eye, her arm protectively in front of Lucian as she watched the exchange. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he felt a warmth spread through his chest.

“Do you think you can?” the vampire asked, and Trevor’s attention refocused on him. 

“What I think,” he said, reaching for his whip, “is I’m going to have to kill you.”

“Belmont, no!” Sypha yelled. “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for!”

And now he was annoyed with _both_ of them. “No, he’s not,” Trevor said curtly. “He’s a vampire. And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years… have you?” he said, and turned towards the monster.

The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your tone, Belmont.”

“This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned. It’s alive, and working,” Trevor said, casting an appraising glance around the room.

“Working?” Lucian spluttered from behind Sypha. “How many mechanisms collapsed from us just walking near them?”

Trevor shot her a disdainful glance, wishing she’d shut up. “I think they were designed to,” he said. “Traps and hazards for anyone who dared disturb the sleeping Messiah. So go on, _vampire_ ,” he said, turning back to the floating man. “Tell her exactly how long you’ve been waiting down here.”

The vampire’s golden eyes narrowed, but he turned to Sypha, still speaking in that infuriatingly quiet voice. “What is the year of your Lord?”

“1476,” Sypha said.

“Perhaps a year, then,” the vampire said.

Trevor didn’t bother to hide his triumphant smile. “There,” he said, gesturing at the vampire. “And on top of that, what kind of Messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a _stone coffin?_ ”

The man lifted his head, eyes blazing. “My defenses were not for you.”

“You could have told your defenses that,” Trevor snapped.

“They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.”

God, he could have strangled this guy. 

“I asked you a question,” the man continued, raising his voice. “Do you care?”

Trevor’s hand settled on his whip. “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving human lives.” He levelled his gaze at the vampire, taunting. “Am I going to have to kill you?”

The vampire met his eyes. “Do you think you can? If you’re really a Belmont and not some runt running around with a family crest, you might be able to.” His fingers twitched, and Trevor’s clenched around the whip’s handle.

He very nearly flinched when a sword came spinning through the air to land in the vampire’s hand. 

“Let’s find out,” the vampire said.

“Belmont, no!” Sypha protested. “You can’t do this!”

“Tell it to your floating vampire Jesus here,” Trevor snapped.

The vampire lifted his head to stare Trevor down; Trevor stared back, not about to be cowed. 

“You’ve got nothing but insults, have you?” the vampire asked, floating closer. “A tired, little—”

Trevor had had enough. His whip cracked, slamming the bastard vampire backwards from the force of the blow.

He should have exploded, but didn’t, and Trevor grit his teeth. _Of course Dracula wouldn’t be so easy to take down._

“Trevor!” Lucian gasped, starting forward, but Sypha’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, holding her back. The vampire snarled and lunged at Trevor, ducking under the whip when it cracked at his head once more.

“You can’t do this, Belmont!” Sypha yelled. 

“He’s not your Messiah!” Trevor yelled back, grunting from the force of his whip cracks. It was all he could do to keep the monster from getting inside his reach to tear his throat out. “Dracula’s castle can appear anywhere, and I told you— _this_ is what it looks like on the inside!”

“And you know what Dracula looks like?” the vampire asked, casually deflecting Trevor’s whip like it was child’s play.

Trevor wished he could get within range if only to smack the bastard. “Nobody knows what Dracula looks like,” he panted, redoubling his efforts. “You’ve got fangs, and you sleep in a coffin—” He hurled a throwing knife at the vampire, who leapt over it, hissed, and stayed hovering in the air, smirking down at Trevor.

He re-coiled the whip, took a half-second to assess the range, and then his arm shot forward. The whip cracked against the vampire’s side, sending him flying from the force. The vampire slammed into a steel beam and collapsed on the ground, but infuriatingly didn’t explode.

Trevor tried to strike him while he was on the ground, but the vampire brought his sword up, and Trevor’s whip wrapped around the blade. He grit his teeth, trying to pull it free, and yelped when the vampire casually jerked his arm aside, dragging Trevor along with the movement.

He let go of the whip and sprinted towards the vampire, drawing his sword.

“Sypha, do something!” Lucian hissed, watching between her fingers. 

Sypha hesitated. “I might hit Trevor, and the Messiah…”

“He is a _vampire_ ,” Lucian said, flinching when the swords met with a clang of steel and a shower of sparks. “He might be the Sleeping Soldier but he’s not a saviour!” She realised she was holding her breath watching the fight and let it out in an anxious whine, dancing on the spot.

Trevor was going with full force, but the vampire continued to deflect his attacks with ease, and one-handed at that despite the size of his sword. She had to do _something_ , had to help.

She sprinted towards them.

“Lucian, no!” Sypha yelled. 

She ducked under the vampire’s sword on the backswing and clapped her hands around his wrist, hands glowing. The vampire snarled, smoke rising up from between Lucian’s fingers as she clung on. With a casual flick of his wrist, she went flying and slammed against the wall, her cry of pain cut short with the wind knocked out of her. 

She lifted her head to see the burns on the vampire’s wrist instantly heal over, and he parried Trevor’s next blow without even slowing down.

“Lucian!” Trevor yelled. Fucking hell, fighting this guy was hard enough without having to watch out for her doing something stupid. Magic glowing hands or not, she wasn’t trained for this. 

Though if he could drive the vampire towards her, maybe she could do the glowing hand thing again and blast him to ash.

“‘M’okay,” Lucian gasped, clapping a hand to her chest and willing herself to heal. 

The vampire took advantage of his distraction to move in a blur of red, so fast he looked like he was teleporting. Trevor spun, anticipating the attack from behind, but he was too slow; the vampire swatted him away like he weighed nothing, and Trevor landed against the steps of the dais. He grunted and jumped up onto the dais, hoping to gain the advantage attacking from above, but the vampire ( _fucking vampire!_ ) blurred again and vanished.

Trevor paused, listening for where the next attack would come from. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned and swung only for his blade to meet the immovable force of the vampire’s. Stupid long sword, he was probably compensating for something.

Trevor strained against his blade until he was forced to retreat backwards, ducking under a swipe of the vampire’s sword. He swung, only to find his attack blocked; he grit his teeth when the vampire leaned in, using his free hand to leverage the sword against his.

_Fuck it._

Trevor swung his knee into the man’s groin. It was like hitting stone, and his eyes watered out of reflex even as the vampire turned to him. 

“Please, this isn’t a bar fight,” the vampire said disdainfully. “Have some class.”

Prick needed to shut up. Trevor slammed his head against the vampire’s, only to have it returned with an open-handed strike to his chest. He flew off the dais and landed hard on the floor, sliding into Lucian.

“Alright?” she asked, panting.

“Could use a heal here,” Trevor grunted. Lucian’s arm snaked over his shoulder and she splayed her fingers over his sternum, straining with the effort. 

She felt the last of her reserves drain out of her as Trevor was revitalised, and he jumped to his feet just in time to block the next attack. Sparks flew with a horrible screech of steel, and Lucian clamped her hands over her ears, huddling on the ground and hoping the vampire wouldn’t turn on such a vulnerable target.

“LUCIAN!” Trevor bellowed, and she looked up in time to see him twist and force the vampire back in her direction.

There wasn’t much she could do at this point with her magic gone, but she grabbed the vampire’s leg when he stepped into her reach, clinging on for dear life in a last-ditch effort to trip him up.

It was enough to distract him, and Trevor lunged, his sword plunging into the vampire’s stomach. A spray of blood rained down on Lucian, staining her clothes and drenching her hair with red. 

The vampire gasped in pain, kicked her aside, and punched Trevor in the face, sending him flying to land against the wall. Lucian rolled away and curled up in a futile effort to protect her ribs, but the vampire was more interested in Trevor than her. He stalked forward, tossing his sword aside as his wound closed up, and crouched over Trevor’s legs, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back.

Trevor smirked up at him, ignoring the threatening hiss. 

“Do you have a God to put a last prayer to, Belmont?” the vampire asked, baring his fangs.

Trevor’s hand worked its way towards one of his throwing daggers. He sucked in a breath and gave the vampire his best shit-eating grin. “Yeah,” he said, fingers closing around the hilt. “Please, God, don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.”

“ _What?_ ” the vampire said, and then gasped in pain when Trevor drove the dagger into his chest.

The vampire leaned in closer, pressing down onto the blade, driving it in deeper. “I can still rip your throat out.”

“You can,” Trevor agreed, “but it won’t stop me staking you.”

“But you will still die,” the vampire said, fangs dangerously close now. Trevor wondered why he didn’t just get it over with.

“But I don’t _care_ ,” Trevor said, and leaned up, closer to those gleaming fangs. “Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury.”

The vampire began to chuckle, golden hair falling over his face as he laughed. A hot, bright glow from behind them made them both look up to see Sypha with her fingertips an inch from the vampire’s head, a blazing fireball conjured between them.

“I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man’s throat,” she said with a ferocity Trevor hadn’t thought she’d possessed. 

“I thought I was your legendary saviour,” the vampire said, sounding way too amused for someone in danger of having his head blasted off.

Sypha’s expression hardened. “So did I,” she said, moving her hand closer, “but he saved my life.”

Trevor both wanted to kiss her and shout at her. She couldn’t even let him die like a Belmont, going down fighting the forces of darkness. But… he had to admit, in his own way, he was grateful. He just wasn’t sure it was because he wasn’t ready to die yet, or if he was just a coward.

“You’re a Speaker magician,” the vampire said, turning his head slightly to look at Sypha out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, and his goal is mine,” Sypha said. “To stand up for the people.”

The vampire glanced back at Trevor, with the faintest of—

—did he just give the faintest of smiles?

“Good,” the vampire said, and closed his eyes. “Very good. A hunter, a magician, and a priest.” He let go of Trevor and stood up, pulling himself off the blade. As Trevor watched, open-mouthed, the stab wound healed up without even a scar to show he’d been injured. “You’ll do.”

He turned to offer his hand to Lucian, who stared up at him in confusion for a moment before tentatively accepting it. He pulled her to her feet, ignoring the fact that she was drenched in his blood, and looked at the others.

“I am Adrian Ţepeş,” he said. “Known to the Wallachians as Alucard… son of Vlad Dracula Ţepeş.”

Trevor pulled himself upright, eyeing the vampire warily but not making a move to attack. As the vampire spoke, Trevor got the sense he’d been _testing_ them, almost. From the amount of power he’d displayed in their fight, he could have easily crushed Trevor into paste and not even broken a sweat.

It was a sobering thought. He knew he was out of practice, but not that it had been this bad.

“I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Gresit for a year to heal the wounds dealt by my father,” Adrian—Alucard?—said, placing a hand over the massive scar on his chest, “when I attempted to stop him unleashing his demon armies.”

“You _are_ the Sleeping Soldier,” Sypha said reverently, extinguishing her flame. 

“I’m aware of the stories,” Alucard said, looking back. “I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future.” He paused, considering her. “Do you know the whole story?”

Sypha’s sudden blush did not escape Trevor’s notice. “Yes,” she squeaked.

“The Sleeping Soldier will be met by a hunter, a scholar, and a priest,” Alucard said, and Trevor and Lucian exchanged glances at that.

“No-one told me that,” Trevor said sullenly.

Sypha looked _very_ embarrassed at that. “Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” she said. “As soon as he’d met you two, he knew you were the missing pieces to the puzzle. Your rescuing me was a part of our destiny.”

Lucian could only stare, open-mouthed. Trevor contemplated her words for a moment before groaning. “I hate Speakers.”

Sypha only gave him an apologetic smile in return.

Alucard went to retrieve his clothes, and Trevor and Sypha converged on Lucian.

“You were _so_ reckless,” Sypha scolded. “You were lucky you weren’t killed!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with her,” Trevor said, nodding at Sypha. “You could’ve gotten in my way.”

“I just wanted to help,” Lucian murmured, hanging her head.

“You’ll help better by not rushing in to get yourself killed,” Trevor snapped. Sypha swatted his arm, and he amended, “Look—Sypha and me, we know how to take care of ourselves. I was fine.”

Lucian looked like she was about to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said, hands knotting in her robes. “I just—I lost my Mama and my brother two nights ago a-and I wasn’t there to protect them—”

Despite his best efforts, Trevor felt himself soften slightly, and he stifled a groan. “So you didn’t want that to happen to anyone else,” he surmised, and Lucian nodded, her eyes on the floor. “Look—I know you meant well, but that could have ended up a _hell_ of a lot worse. Leave the fighting to us, alright?”

Lucian nodded again, and Sypha pulled her into a hug, ignoring the blood. The Speaker was nearly half a foot shorter than the priest, but Lucian buried her face against Sypha’s shoulder, trembling noiselessly. Sypha rubbed her back, shooting Trevor a look.

“ _Thank you,_ ” she mouthed, and he blinked, but jerked his head in acknowledgement.

Alucard rejoined them, now wearing a shirt, Trevor couldn’t help but notice. He’d thrown on a rich black and gold longcoat over a _very_ low-cut white shirt (who was he trying to impress, anyway?), elbow-length fencer’s gloves completing the ensemble.

“So… what happens now?” Sypha asked, letting go of Lucian.

“I need a hunter, a scholar, and a priest,” Alucard said, shoving his scabbard through one of the belts draped across his hips. “I need help to save Wallachia, perhaps the world, and defeat my father.”

Lucian jumped when his sword went flying across the room to slot itself neatly into the scabbard. Alucard strode to the exit, hair and coat streaming out behind him.

“Why?” Trevor asked, and Alucard paused, fingers flexing around the hilt of the sword.

“Because it is what my mother would have wanted,” Alucard finally said, and continued walking.

Trevor shot him a look, re-coiling his whip to replace it on his belt.

“And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families wishes.” Alucard’s voice was soft.

“You’ll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?” Trevor asked skeptically.

Alucard stopped short, allowing Trevor, Sypha, and Lucian to catch up to him. “My father has to die,” he said after another infuriatingly long pause. “We four—we can destroy him.”

Trevor bit back a sigh, but nodded. Together, they headed for the exit, relying on Alucard’s knowledge of the catacombs to avoid any more mishaps like they’d had on the way down.

* * *

Lucian looked up when Alucard fell into step beside her, and she quickly looked away, still not quite sure what, exactly, to make of him.

“A Belmont and a Speaker magician, I can understand,” Alucard said, his golden eyes piercing. “I can’t say I was expecting a woman priest.”

Lucian squashed down her immediate response to snap at him. “I was raised as a boy,” she said curtly, and Alucard merely nodded at that. “The other priests never knew.”

“And yet, I figured it out in ten minutes,” Trevor said innocently.

Lucian’s nostrils flared and she took a slow, deep breath before turning to look at him. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think priests are generally so perceptive as trained monster hunters from a lineage of warriors.”

Trevor snickered, and despite herself, Lucian chuckled softly, mousy hair falling in her eyes when she ducked her head.

“You displayed some unusual abilities during the fight,” Alucard pressed. “Tell me, has the church become more competent since I went into my hibernation, or is that the reason why these two keep you around? It certainly isn’t for your fighting skills.”

Lucian gnawed on her lip while she considered her response. “It’s just sort of something I’ve always been able to do.” She fiddled with her robes, fingers trying to find something to keep them occupied. “Uh—not the, um, burning you with my hands thing. I didn’t even know I could do that, I’m sorry—I mean, I thought you were trying to kill Trevor and I just wanted to help and I didn’t really know what would happen but—um.” She realised she was babbling and shut her mouth, face reddening.

Alucard glanced up at the ceiling in thought, though she could have sworn she caught the faintest flash of a smile from him.

“It was brave,” Alucard said, and Lucian startled when she realised he was still speaking to her. “And reckless. But commendable nonetheless.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Trevor growled. Alucard merely made a slight noise of dissent, turning a corner and leading them through a door.

“Are you _sure_ I’m the priest you’re supposed to have help you kill Dracula?” Lucian asked, trailing after the group. “It’s just that the three of you are such accomplished fighters, and I… uh, I kind of grew up dusting pews and copying manuscripts.”

“You were with us when we found the Sleeping Soldier,” Sypha pointed out. “The legend goes that the heroes would be there when he awoke, and together they would work to save Wallachia in its time of greatest need.” She put her hand on Lucian’s arm, and the priest jumped at her touch before relaxing. “I saw what you did to those demons when we were on the surface. I think with a little practice we’ll have you caught up in no time!”

“More than a little,” Trevor said, slouching behind Alucard as he led the way. “It takes years of training to get good at this stuff. She wouldn’t last three minutes in a serious fight.”

“What, so the raid _wasn’t_ a serious fight?” Lucian demanded, and Trevor turned on his heel to walk backwards, facing her while he spoke.

“It was disorganised,” he said bluntly. “The demons that attacked might have been under Dracula’s control, but they were little more than mindless beasts. Our little fanged friend here—”

“I’m taller than you,” Alucard said, raising an eyebrow.

“ _Shut up,_ ” Trevor ground out through his teeth. “Our _little_ fanged friend here,” he continued, raising his voice slightly, “is a lot more dangerous than they were. Now imagine a dozen more like him, two dozen—”

“Is there a _point_ to this, seeing as how you barely held your own against me?” Alucard said, and Trevor’s fingers twitched as he imagined placing them around the bastard’s throat and squeezing.

“The _point_ is, we’re going to be facing a lot more demons, and a _hell_ of a lot more vampires. Father Shorty over here is going to have to learn to stay out of our way if we’re going to have any chance in a fight.”

“...You could teach me,” Lucian piped up, and Trevor finally groaned.

“It is _not_ that simple,” he said. “This isn’t some fairytale where the chosen one picks up a sword and within a day is besting masters. You run in and try to be a hero against a vamp that _isn’t_ testing us, and you. Will. _Die_.”

Lucian swallowed. Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around so he was walking normally. 

If he was being honest with himself, he felt a little bad about crushing her like that, but she had to understand the gravity of the situation they were in.

God _dammit,_ why couldn’t the prophecy have given them a priest who could handle himself in a fight? Though, he thought, reconsidering, any priest who could use a weapon effectively was likely to be no better than the ones bullying Sypha’s grandfather and terrorising the general populace. 

Between a heartless monster and a clueless but well-meaning girl with some weird-ass powers, he’d take the latter.

“I’m going to have to let the other Speakers know I won’t be going with them,” Sypha said quietly. “If I am going to be traveling with you, well…” She trailed off and sighed. “I am going to miss them.”

“Speakers break off and join other caravans all the time, don’t they?” Lucian asked, drifting closer to her. “I know we’re not Speakers, but…”

Sypha gave her such a sad look she felt her heart break in two. That was exactly the problem, she realised—tentative allies were no replacement for a tight-knit culture of nomads like Sypha was used to.

“I’m sorry,” Lucian said, and her hand crept out until it found Sypha’s. She gave the other woman’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “It can’t be for too long, can it? I mean, between the three of you, I’m sure you’ll be able to take down Dracula in no time.”

“The four of us,” Sypha corrected. She smiled, though it still looked sad. “Admittedly we Speakers often have to separate fact from fiction in stories like these, but this is one I’m sure is true.”

Lucian tilted her head. “How?”

“Call it a hunch,” Sypha said, and laughed quietly at Lucian’s expression. “This is a story that has been passed down for generations—it’s one we’re quite certain is true, and we haven’t been wrong yet!”

“First time for everything,” Lucian said lightly, but she giggled as well. “That _is_ good to know, though,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” Sypha said, nudging her with her hip. “What are friends for?”

Lucian’s eyes went wide. “We’re friends?”

“We are now.” Sypha wrapped an arm around Lucian’s shoulders, and she relaxed into her touch. It had been far too long since she’d had a kind arm around her, and she wasn’t about to waste a moment of it.


	4. Chapter 4

When they made it up to the surface, Lucian disappeared in the direction of the cathedral, saying she had some things she needed to pack for their journey. Trevor and Sypha went to take Alucard back to the ruined hut where the Speakers had been living to hide him, before going to see them safely out of town.

Lucian made her way through the streets where a new number of fresh corpses lay scattered, though a fair few demon bodies were now among the new dead. She glanced around her as she hurried to the Cathedral, and it didn’t escape her notice that several people stopped their work of disposing the corpses to stare after her, covered in sticky, drying blood.

A chill ran down her spine and she redoubled her pace.

When she reached the cathedral, she checked on the doorstep. She’d _felt_ the consecration of the building slowly draining away over the years to the point the place felt as dead as any other structure, but now there was a taint of _evil_ to the house of worship, a sort of stench that she sensed rather than smelled. 

With no small trepidation, she pushed open the doors, wincing at how they creaked into the echoing narthex. She took several tentative steps forward, but hearing nobody come to investigate—not even the church mice she’d befriended as a child—she strode forward, soft boot soles making hardly any noise on the flagstones.

She reached the transept, and that was when she noticed the pair of feet sticking out from behind the lectern, heels soaked in a puddle of congealed blood.

Lucian felt sick to her stomach when she recognised the robes’ hem as belonging to the bishop. She held no love for the man, but he _had_ been a part of her life, controlling and harsh as he might have been. Already knowing she was going to regret this, she climbed up onto the chancel steps, heart in her mouth. She edged around the lectern, caught one look at the bishop’s face, and stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle her scream.

She turned tail and fled to her quarters, leaving the mutilated body behind. She rinsed as much blood out of her hair in the washbasin as she could with shaking hands, pressing her face into the towel for a moment while she gathered her thoughts.

Lucian stripped off her filthy vestments and flung them aside. She pulled on a simple, but well-made tunic and breeches, stuffing her feet back into her boots before throwing on a belt to cinch around her hips. She turned around, taking stock of her meagre possessions. A bible she’d transcribed as a child, a second set of priest’s robes, a winter traveling cloak, a half-nibbled wedge of cheese she’d been snacking on in the evenings, a pipe and a small satchel of pipe-weed, a modest bag.

She fastened the cloak around her neck and tossed the robes, bible, pipe and weed, and cheese into the bag and slung it over her shoulder, heart in her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, that she was running away from the cathedral she’d dedicated her life to.

But Mama and Gavril were dead. They no longer needed her to keep pretending to be the firstborn son, no longer needed her to stay in this wretched place where the elder priests beat her if she didn’t move quickly enough to complete the tasks she was given. 

Lucian had to sit on the edge of her bed, the thin, straw-stuffed mattress offering little protection from the hardwood frame. She propped her elbows on her knees, head in hands, and fought down sniffles, trying to recall the meditation techniques of the monks.

Tears dripped from her eyes, fat and wet, rolling down her cheeks to land with soft splats on the floor. Lucian shuddered, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and stood, determination on her face.

“Good riddance,” she whispered, and hurried from the room before anyone could catch her.

* * *

She caught up with Sypha and Trevor on their way back to the Speakers’ abandoned hut just in time to hear Sypha say, “Then why are most of the stories you’ve told me in the last few days about you arriving somewhere and then getting punched in the face?”

“That’s because everyone else is a horrible piece of shit,” Trevor said flatly, and turned around at the sound of Lucian’s footsteps. “Ah. Glad you could join us, _Father_.” His words were taunting, but if he was being honest, his heart wasn’t in it.

“The bishop’s dead,” Lucian said, skidding to a stop beside them and bending over, panting. She’d changed out of her robes into a dull grey tunic and black breeches, still very much boy’s clothing. Aside from the quality of the clothes, she could have passed for any other commoner if it weren’t for the rich, red woolen traveling cloak draped over her shoulders. Gold thread picked out embroidery in religious patterns around the hem, and Trevor cast an eye over the needlework. 

Professional. Of course it would be; the church would spare no expense to make sure its members looked as powerful as they liked to pretend they were. He’d had to learn needlework just to do the Belmont crest on his own tunic, and although he’d gotten better at it over the years, it still wasn’t any match for an experienced seamstress’ work.

“Dead?” Sypha asked tentatively. “From the raid, or…?”

Lucian swallowed and nodded, and it didn’t escape Trevor’s notice her eyes were red and puffy. “Something— _something_ tore half his face off.”

“Good riddance,” Trevor said, and jerked his head for her to follow. “He sounds like a right evil bastard.”

“He was,” Lucian said quietly, to his surprise. “As was the bishop before him. The church has been corrupt for years, long before they killed Dracula’s wife.”

Trevor laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “Oh, believe me, I found that out when they burned my family to death for daring to hunt monsters.”

Lucian looked away, fiddling with the claps of her cloak. Trevor wished she’d yell back, or at least _snap_ at him, or _something_. This passive shit was going to get old real fucking fast.

“But I suppose you’d know all about—” he continued, before Sypha elbowed him in the ribs. He glowered at her, but took the hint, casting a disdainful look at Lucian.

Tall though she was, boyish-looking though she might have been, right then she looked very small and alone, a terrified young girl who was just learning how cruel the world could be. He was violently transported back to that night, not long after his… oh, God, what was it, twelfth? Fourteenth? birthday, when he was held down by a pair of men that laughed to the screams of his family burning to death inside the manor.

She looked like he did, then, and he remembered what she’d said about losing her family. He sighed—more of a groan, really—and drifted closer to her.

“Look,” he muttered, already certain he was going to regret this. “If you want, I can try and give you some lessons while we’re on the road.”

Lucian’s head shot up, her eyes wide. “Are you being serious?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Trevor said, and rolled his eyes. “I’d rather have an asset than a liability on the team, you know.”

Lucian smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her in the brief time he’d known her, that showed off her slightly bucked teeth and the faint dimple in her right cheek. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” she said excitedly, and Trevor bit back a groan. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already am,” he muttered under his breath, striding into the hut to see Alucard sprawled infuriatingly elegantly on the floor, a slender stick in hand as he drew in the dirt.

“So how do we proceed?” Sypha asked, immediately all business.

Alucard didn’t bother to look at her. “Have the Speakers left?”

“Yeah,” Trevor ground out.

“I’m sorry,” Alucard said. Sypha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes stinging. “In success, you will see them again soon, in far happier circumstances.”

Trevor groaned and stalked further into the hut. Sypha turned to him, planting her hands on her hips. “See?” she said, and gestured at Alucard. “ _He_ knows how to be nice!”

Trevor just went over to the dusty chest sitting in the corner. Sypha resisted the urge to roll her eyes and looked back to Alucard. “Is it true, then?” she asked. “The castle can travel somehow, like Belmont said? We know the stories, but like I mentioned before… it can be hard to separate myth from truth.”

“Go on, tell her about the castle, Alucard,” Trevor said, crouching by the chest and cracking open the lid. “Her day can’t get any more ruined.” He dug into the chest, smiling when he found the smooth glass of wine bottles inside.

“Dracula’s castle moves,” Alucard said. Sypha’s breath caught, and she watched Alucard, afraid of what he’d say next—but wanting desperately to know more. “How to describe it?” he continued, sitting back and resting his hands on the ground behind him. “It travels without moving. It appears at locations as if…” He paused, glancing sidelong at Trevor digging through the broken wine bottles. “Well, as if by magic,” he finished.

“There has to be some way to trap it,” Sypha said.

“Trap it or track it?” Lucian asked.

“Trap,” Sypha said, folding her arms. “If it’s magic, that means it is vulnerable. All spells have their weak points, but the more powerful the spell, the larger the weak point. A spell to move an entire castle on a regular basis would have a _huge_ weakness; if I only knew what it was…” She clenched her hands together, grinning triumphantly.

She looked up to see Alucard’s impassive face, Lucian’s confused one. Trevor’s back remained turned to her as he dug through the chest.

Sypha put her hand to her forehead, willing herself not to lose her temper. “If I had a way to read up on the castle, maybe, learn about its history, its construction—”

“I want to go home,” Trevor interrupted, holding up a broken bottle.

Sypha turned, equal parts annoyed and furious. “Have you been drinking again?” she demanded. She had no idea how he might have managed that, but then again, this was _Belmont._ He probably kept a flask of rum in that filthy tunic of his or something.

Trevor snorted, which was at least somewhat reassuring. “Some chance,” he said. “But no, I want to go _home_ —the old Belmont estate.”

“I was under the impression that it was destroyed,” Alucard said from the ground next to him, and _oh_ , Sypha could see from the glare Trevor shot at him that they had a long way to go before these two would get along. “Villagers, pitchforks, and torches, that sort of thing.”

Trevor’s hands braced on either side of the crate’s lid. “It _was_ ,” he growled. “But the value of the old house wasn’t the house itself.”

Despite herself, Sypha perked up, drifting a little closer to hear the next bit.

“It was what was underneath it,” Trevor said, straightening up to glare at Alucard. “The Belmont Hold—our family library and trove.”

A small thrill ran through Sypha, and it was only with the greatest willpower she held herself back from pouncing on Trevor to demand he tell her everything about it.

Alucard lifted his head. “The collected knowledge and material of generations of Belmonts who fought the creatures of the night. That sounds interesting.” He smirked and tilted his head. “ _If_ it survives.”

Sypha turned to Trevor, and it did not escape her how a tic had formed over one eye. 

“ _If_ there are solutions to the problems of finding and killing Dracula, they are in the hold,” Trevor said stubbornly.

“You are guessing, though,” Alucard said, and Lucian stepped between them, holding up her arms.

“Alu—Ad—what do you want us to call you, exactly?”

The vampire tilted his head, considering her for a moment. “Alucard will do fine.”

“Right,” Lucian said, her eyes oddly bright. “Listen, the Belmonts have hunted monsters for generations, I _know_ I don’t need to tell you that—you literally _just_ mentioned it.”

Alucard nodded, a brusque, impatient movement. Sypha folded her hands inside her robes, forming the shapes to conjure fire. Sleeping saviour or no, he’d proven earlier he had no qualms about roughing up both Trevor and Lucian, and she wasn’t about to let him do it a second time.

“If anyone’s going to have information on your father’s castle, it’s going to be them,” Lucian said. “Unless you know how it works and are willing to tell us—”

“I do not,” Alucard said. “I would if I did.”

“Fine,” Lucian snapped. “We need information. You? Don’t have it. Trevor’s family? Likely does, or did. It sounds like as good a plan as any to me. Even if the hold was destroyed, there might be _something_ that could still be useful to us.”

“Thank you!” Trevor said impatiently.

Lucian tilted her head back, exhaling sharply, and sank down onto the floor.

Children, the lot of them. Sypha let the magic she’d been calling up fizzle, hoping none of them had noticed how close she’d been to losing her temper.

“Look,” Trevor said, pacing across the room. “I can’t make heads nor tails of magic, but you two can. My family stored everything they found, including books of magic and whatever other weird stuff they came across. I just…” He sighed, and held out a hand towards Alucard. “Can’t do anything with it.”

Alucard scoffed and ducked his head, but it wasn’t enough to hide his smirk. “Fortunate indeed, then, that I chose not to kill and eat you, Belmont.”

Sypha resisted the urge to facepalm.

Trevor crossed his arms, visibly affronted. “And that I decided against gutting you, flaying you, and turning you into shoes, _Alucard._ ”

Sypha turned away, fighting _very_ hard not to yell at the pair of them. “Such a merry band we are,” she said, making for the exit. “I will find us a covered wagon and horses.”

“I can come with you,” Lucian said, jumping to her feet, but Sypha turned, trying not to let her grimace be too obvious.

“Lucian,” Sypha said gently, catching her wrists, “I mean no offense, but you _were_ outed to the rest of the townsfolk just yesterday.”

“ _You_ got outed as a magician,” Lucian pointed out.

Sypha slid her hands down so she was gripping Lucian’s in her own. “Between the last son of the Belmonts, the priest who everyone now knows as a woman, the vampire, and the Speaker—one of many, which hardly any of the people will know who left town today—who has the best chance of securing what we need?”

Lucian bit her lip, but she nodded. Her hands tightened on Sypha’s. “Be safe,” she whispered, and Sypha was surprised by the intensity of her voice. “ _Please._ ”

Sypha laughed gently and disentangled herself from Lucian’s grip. “I will be,” she promised. “I know how to handle myself. You two,” she added sharply, and threw a look at Trevor and Alucard. “Just… try not to kill each other while I’m gone.” She paused, then added, “Lucian’s in charge.”

“Oh please. We’re not children,” Alucard said, audibly bored.

“Then _act like it,_ ” Sypha snapped back.

She was already certain she was making a grave mistake, leaving the three to their own devices, but as she’d pointed out earlier, she was their best chance at getting a wagon. She sighed, tugged her hood over her head, and set off into town.

Trevor and Alucard didn’t waste a second once she was gone.

“Eat shit and die,” Trevor said, glowering at Alucard.

“Yes, fuck you,” Alucard said, and folded his arms.

Lucian’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth, only to be surprised by the pair breaking into snickers.

“Is this some man’s ritual I’ve never been privy to?” she asked faintly, drawing her cloak closer around her shoulders.

Neither of them answered her, too busy laughing to be bothered. Lucian muttered a few choice words and slumped against the wall of the hut, tugged her cloak a little higher, and resigned herself to sulking while she listened to the pair trade barbs.

The priests had been no stranger to bawdy jokes, but even still, she felt her cheeks go red at Trevor’s comment about Alucard fucking a particularly randy goat. The Belmont heir finally sat down against a crate, still laughing in a weirdly good-natured way with the son of Dracula. Lucian retreated farther into her cloak, though she remained listening attentively. 

Despite the attempts to kill each other just a few hours ago, despite them coming from opposing families in a centuries-long war, they still seemed to find some strange sort of camaraderie. It made her heart twist with jealousy, and she hated it.

She was a priest, corrupt church and distant God or no. She should be above such things.

But watching how the two made rude gestures at each other and tossed insults back and forth, both laughing after the spicier barbs… hurt.

She was _lonely._

She never had _friends_ in the church; getting close to anyone would have risked exposing her secret. And she’d always been so busy before with her duties to the cathedral she never really had time to ruminate on her life until recently. Outside of the occasional regret she never got to know her birth family better, she just didn’t have the opportunity to feel the loss of a normal life. But at least she had a purpose, if nothing else, something to keep her plodding along day by day.

Now, though, with her mother and brother slaughtered by demons, her connection to the church severed by aligning with a Belmont, a witch, and a vampire, she had nowhere else to go. 

And she was lonely.

She tugged her knees to her chest, buried her face against them, and finally allowed herself a silent cry.

* * *

Sypha returned in the late afternoon, with an old but serviceable covered wagon and a pair of old but serviceable horses. Trevor took the driver’s seat with her, while Alucard and Lucian climbed into the back, letting their legs dangle over the road while the wagon bumped over ruts and stones.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Lucian asked, staring at the walls of Gresit as they receded into the distance, the setting sun making them glow with an inner fire. Her foot jittered anxiously, and she fiddled with her hands, turning her fingers over each other.

Alucard hiked a knee up to rest his forearm on it, turning to look at her. She didn’t cry, but her eyes were shining like they had been on and off all day.

The last thing he wanted was a crying girl in the present company set on killing his own father.

Alucard sighed and leaned his head back against the wall of the wagon. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he said, looking out at the wall himself. “And there’s no way of truly knowing. But Belmont taught them how to fight the monsters; I suppose they’ll have a chance to survive.”

Lucian nodded and closed her eyes, turning her head away from the exposed back of the wagon.

Even as tall as she was, in her commoner's clothes especially she looked far smaller than Sypha. It was in the way they carried themselves, Alucard realised. Sypha was confident in her abilities and in her worth as a person. Lucian (there was no way her true name was Lucian, but she’d given no other) carried herself like she had something to hide. Always hunched, always glancing away when people looked at her. Physically, she might have taken up more space, but Sypha commanded a room. This female priest just wanted to hide away in a corner and not be noticed.

“You tried to stop me back in Gresit, even without any training in combat,” Alucard noted. “You didn’t know I wouldn’t kill you—”

“So you _were_ testing us,” Lucian said, her eyes still closed. She sucked air in through her teeth, very quietly. _Fft-fft-fft._

“I had to be sure,” Alucard said, a wry smile twisting his features. “If you really were the heroes of the prophecy or just some random travelers who had stumbled their way into my crypt.”

“Who says it can’t be both?” Lucian asked, and chuckled when she heard Alucard snort.

“I still haven’t ruled it out with Belmont,” Alucard said, and that got a proper laugh out of her. She sat up, loosely hugging her knees. “You never answered my question—”

“You never _asked_ a question.”

He tilted his head. “Fine. You didn’t know I wouldn’t kill you, you have no skills in combat, and yet you still ran in to try and save a man you’d met, what, just earlier that day. Why?”

Lucian looked down at her hands, and they curled loosely into fists. “I guess because I thought it was the right thing to do,” she said at long last. “There was never any sense of… well, brotherhood, among the brothers of the cathedral. It was every man for himself, but with Trevor… I know he’s rough around the edges, but he’s genuine about his beliefs and carries his family legacy, even if he complains about it.”

Alucard glanced up towards the driver’s seat and caught the Belmont’s eye; Trevor cocked an eyebrow at him before snapping the reins, re-focusing his attention on the road. But Alucard was certain he was still listening in.

“And he has a genuine desire to do good for the people,” Lucian continued, hugging her knees to her chest. “And he saved my life, a-and he was working to save everyone in Gresit even though they’d have happily have seen him burned—”

Alucard flinched, but Lucian was spaced out, staring at the opposite wall of the wagon and didn’t notice. 

“—and he just cares in a way I’ve never seen before,” she finished softly. “For all I knew, you were some murderous vampire, maybe even Dracula himself like Trevor’d said. I had nothing else to lose, but if he could have defeated you—uh—” She glanced up at Alucard, her cheeks going a blotchy red. “Um, assuming you were him, that is—then the world would be a safer place for everyone… wouldn’t it?”

“You had no proof, though,” Alucard pointed out, and it didn’t miss him how Lucian’s eyes flickered away. “What if you’d been wrong?”

“Would it have mattered?” Lucian asked.

Alucard snorted. “You were one of the prophesied heroes, were you not?”

Lucian fixed him with a hard look, and he was gratified to know she had more settings besides ‘miserable’ and ‘passively miserable’. “I didn’t exactly know that at the time. Still doesn’t seem real, if I’m being honest.”

“May I see your hands?” he said suddenly, and Lucian’s head snapped up. “Call it an insatiable curiosity.”

“The same for me, as well,” Sypha called, twisting around in her seat, and Lucian startled, whirling to stare wide-eyed at the Speaker. “My people share all sorts of knowledge and stories, but the things I’ve seen you do are the stuff of legend!”

Trevor glanced over his shoulder as well, and Lucian swallowed, realising she was suddenly the centre of attention. She cringed, but held out her hands, and Alucard took them in his own, bending over them with a detached air of curiosity. Her face heated up at his touch, and having him this close to her was _not_ helping.

“Is there anything?” she blurted out after roughly five seconds, and Alucard’s head slowly lifted until he was staring her in the eyes. “...Never mind.”

“I am going to need a little more time,” Alucard said impatiently. “And very possibly some research in that Belmont hold, if the drunkard can be trusted on his descriptions.”

“Listen here, you floaty, pompous twat—” Trevor began.

“I think we’ll make it to the river by nightfall,” Sypha said loudly. “We can rest and enjoy ourselves a fire and possibly tell stories—wouldn’t that be lovely?” 

“It would,” Lucian said quickly. “And mercy knows I need a bath.”

“I think we all do,” Alucard said, and shot a glance at Trevor. “Some more than others.”

Trevor flipped him off over his shoulder without looking.

Sypha turned in her seat again, motioning for Lucian to come closer. She hesitantly scooted over the floor of the wagon, and Sypha grabbed her hands, beaming.

“It will be lovely to have some quality time with another woman,” she said, and Lucian blanched. “Especially one who’s had to spend so much of her life posing as a boy for their own safety.”

“...Right,” Lucian muttered, not able to meet Sypha’s eyes. “It’ll be… great.”

She saw Sypha frown out of the corner of her eye, but mercifully, the Speaker didn’t press the issue and let go to turn to Trevor and excitedly start talking about their fall down into Alucard’s crypt.

“You seem troubled,” Alucard said when Lucian scooted back to her original spot to let her feet dangle over the edge of the wagon.

“No shit,” Lucian muttered.

A smirk curled the infuriatingly perfect cupid’s bow of his mouth. “That hardly seems like becoming language for a priest.”

“I don’t think most of the priests cared,” Lucian said, swinging her legs. She sighed and flopped backwards on the floor, letting her arms spread out. She turned her head, looking up at Alucard and his stupid, perfect hair that she wanted to touch and run her fingers through. “They didn’t care about the motivations of the people,” she said softly. “Or if the people they hunted down were evil. They just wanted to kill anyone who was different or might have spoken out against them.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking anxiously at Alucard, who had gone unusually still. Lucian hesitantly reached out and lightly touched his elbow, and he looked down at her, unnaturally stiff in his movements.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then he gently—but very definitely—moved his arm out of her reach. He curled up against the wall of the wagon, and Lucian decided it was best to retreat, moving to the opposite wall and digging her pipe out of her bag. She tamped down the pipe-weed, lit a small but intense ball of radiance at the tip of her finger, and set the pipe-weed smoking.

She took a drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke with a sigh. 

Two days ago, she’d been a reluctant but productive member of the church. Now, here she was, in the back of a rickety wagon with a Belmont, a sorceress, and a vampire, wondering just what on Earth she was doing with her life even as it seemed to be falling apart around her.

Lucian closed her eyes, listening to the ambient sounds of the road. She’d never been outside of Gresit before; this was scary and unfamiliar territory to her. The high-pitched cries of birdsong, the rattle of wagon wheels, even the way the wind blew through the trees seemed foreign, and for the briefest of moments, she wished she was curled up on her thin mattress in the cathedral, listening to the snores of the other priests.

She took another drag on the pipe, blew out another cloud of smoke, and thumped her head against the wall of the wagon. She’d never fit in, even if she’d been raised as a girl, and she hated almost everyone in the church, anyway. Maybe this stupid destiny she’d stumbled upon was for the best.

Lucian leaned against the wall and settled in for a long journey, hoping nobody would talk to her while she just focused on her pipe, letting the drug take over her system.

* * *

“We’re almost to the river,” Sypha said, startling her out of her reverie, and Lucian cracked her eyes open to look up at the drivers’ seat. Her pipe had long since gone out, and she tapped its contents out the back of the wagon before scooting up to lean against the back of the driver’s bench. 

“How long’ve we been going?” she asked, and Sypha shrugged.

“Three, maybe four hours?” she said, and Lucian flopped back against the wall of the wagon, taking in a slow, deep breath.

Fuck, but she’d been out of it for a while. _Get it together, Enache._

“I believe our priest friend was rather _otherwise occupied_ during our journey today,” Alucard said, and it took all of Lucian’s self-control to not snap at him. She instead grit her teeth, pulled her cloak tighter, and stared resolutely out the back of the wagon.

They found a campsite, if they could call it that. Trevor grumbled, but Sypha said they could all sleep in the wagon, and Lucian had readily agreed. Alucard didn’t seem fussed by the prospect, though he did insist on being “as far away from Belmont as possible”, which was more than doable. 

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” Sypha said. “Belmont, you really should—”

“I’ll wash when we reach the hold,” Trevor said, already beginning to gather firewood from a nearby bush.

Sypha wrinkled her nose, but she gestured at Lucian to come with her. “It will be safer in pairs,” she pointed out when Lucian hesitated, and the priest finally nodded.

Sypha shed her outer robe as they walked, and glanced back at Lucian to catch her staring. 

“Like what you see?” Sypha teased, and Lucian immediately straightened up, going scarlet and stammering an apology. She was cute when she was embarrassed, Sypha noticed, and turned away to hide a grin.

“Hang on, when you said pairs,” Lucian said, tripping in her haste to catch up, “you didn’t mean, like… at the same time?”

“Of course,” Sypha said. Communal bathing was common among the Speakers; there was only so much time to clean up before they had to get back on the road.

Lucian stopped dead, and Sypha turned around again when she heard the priest’s footsteps cease.

“I’ve never… and I also…” Lucian said, tapping her fingers together nervously.

“If you’d rather we take it in turns, that’s okay!” Sypha said, grabbing Lucian’s hands and squeezing. “You can stand guard for me, and I can do the same—”

“It’s just…” Lucian took a deep breath, and Sypha didn’t miss how her eyes flickered down. “I mean, you guys are the first people I’ve really been… female, around, a-and…”

Sypha patted her arm. “I know what that’s like,” she said. “Though, I think, perhaps not quite on the same level that you do. It can be scary to be so vulnerable—I didn’t think about how you’d feel.”

Lucian’s eyes flickered back up, and Sypha smiled. She had lovely eyes, a sort of misty green with a thin ring of gold around the pupil.

The priest’s shoulders straightened and she shed her cloak, a look of determination in her eyes. “It’s fine,” she said stubbornly, and stalked the rest of the way to the river’s banks. She hung her cloak from a branch and undid her belt, hands shaking slightly.

Sypha draped her robe over another branch on the tree and quickly divested herself of the rest of her garments before wading in, smiling at the feeling of cool, smooth stones that lined the riverbed. The water was frigid, but a quick hand gesture left steam gently rising from the surface of the water in a wide circle around her.

She looked away out of politeness when Lucian came to join her, though she still caught a brief glimpse of her nude form—slender, and with a body like a young child's, rather than a grown woman despite her gangly height. 

Lucian cleared her throat nervously, and Sypha turned around to see she’d slunk most of the way under the water, leaving just her head exposed. Her mousy brown hair looked very sticky with dried blood.

“Would you like me to wash your hair?” Sypha asked.

“I—I guess so?”

They had no soap, but Sypha scooped water up in her hands, pouring it over Lucian’s head before scrubbing away at the grime from their trip through the catacombs. The other woman’s hair was very thick, and Sypha couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. 

“I haven’t had anyone do this for me since I was little,” Lucian said, her voice tight. Sypha thought she might have been about to cry. 

“My grandfather used to do it for me when my parents passed,” Sypha said, smiling sadly at the memory. “When I started growing up, one of the other women—I called her Auntie, even if we weren’t related—would do it when we bathed together.”

Lucian was quiet, and Sypha wondered if she’d somehow offended the priest. 

“I didn’t know about your parents,” Lucian said, her voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

“I miss them very much,” Sypha said, working out a tangle with her fingers. “I was very young when they died from a fever one winter, so I don’t have many memories of them. But…” She closed her eyes, remembering the nights spent around the fire, wagons encircling them as a protective barrier, the songs and dances of her people that continued late into the night. “They are kept alive through our stories. I’ll always have them with me in my heart.”

Lucian sniffled, and Sypha put her hands on her shoulders.

“I never got to hear any stories about my father,” Lucian said, swallowing. “And now that Mama is dead, I don’t—I won’t—I’ll never get to learn what he was like.”

Sypha didn’t know her well enough to offer any words of advice or comfort that could do the trick. So she instead asked, “Would you like a hug?”

Lucian turned and stood abruptly, clinging to Sypha like a drowning man to a piece of wood. Sypha was nearly knocked over from the force of the hug and flailed for a moment before getting her arms around Lucian and hugging her back.

She didn’t cry, but her body shook against Sypha’s in noiseless sobs. Of course, she would have needed to get used to hiding her tears, Sypha thought, lest she be discovered.

“I don’t suppose the priests were very big on hugging,” Sypha said gently, rubbing her hands up and down Lucian’s back.

“No,” Lucian said, face buried in the crook of her neck. “Beating, maybe, but never hugging.”

Sypha’s hands went still for a moment, and she grit her teeth. “They are evil men, putting on masks and pretending to be good,” she said, struggling to contain her temper. “I am very glad you are not like them.”

Lucian drew back slightly and suddenly became _very_ conscious of the fact they’d just spent several minutes hugging _naked_. She felt her face heat up again and let go, crossing her arms over her painfully flat chest and looking up at the tree where they’d hung their clothes like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and not Sypha’s bare chest right in front of her.

“I, um, I could wash your hair now, if you’d like,” she mumbled, and Sypha turned, sinking a little lower in the water for easy reach.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Sypha asked while Lucian poured water over her head.

“Why do I get the feeling you’d ask anyway?” Lucian said under her breath.

“I couldn’t help but notice your body—”

“Is wrong, I know,” Lucian said, a little testily as she scrubbed Sypha’s hair. “I know I’m not beautiful, I know I’ve got the body of some freakishly tall child—”

“I was going to say ‘different’,” Sypha said. 

Lucian hunched her shoulders. “...Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Sypha said, waving a hand. Lucian wished she could see her face, but the mage seemed sincere in her tone. “It must be very convenient not having to wear breast-bindings.”

“Wear… what?”

Sypha turned in the water to look up at her in surprise at exactly the wrong time, and Lucian accidentally dumped another handful on her face. Sypha yelped and fell backwards, landing in the water with a splash _._

“Are you alright?” Lucian asked anxiously when Sypha resurfaced. Sypha spat out a mouthful of water, grinned wickedly, and grabbed Lucian’s wrists, pulling her underwater with her.

Lucian caught her breath a second before she was pulled in, and she felt Sypha’s hands let go. She stood up, wiping water out of her eyes, and shook her head like a dog, spraying the other woman. Sypha laughed and shook her head back before splashing water at her. 

And despite herself, despite the emotional wreck she’d become over the last few days, despite the insane task ahead of them, Lucian laughed, splashed water back, and the two splashed back and forth for several moments, giggling together.

“We should probably finish up here,” Sypha said, glancing at the sun as it sank closer to the horizon. “I would not like to be out here when it gets dark, and I’m sure Alucard would like to bathe as well.”

“You think Trevor would do it if we pushed him in?” Lucian asked, and Sypha wrinkled her nose.

“I think you would have a better chance if you lured him in with a mug of beer on a stick,” she said. 

Despite herself, Lucian snorted and forced herself out of the water, padding up the grassy bank to the tree. Sypha re-cast her spell so it would hold long enough for Alucard, and joined Lucian, sending a blast of air from her palm just as Lucian was reaching for her cloak to dry herself off. 

“Oops! Sorry!” Sypha put a hand to her mouth, trying not to giggle at how fluffy Lucian’s hair had become from the sudden blow-dry.

“It’s alright,” Lucian said, and quickly tugged on her breeches. “Maybe I should learn magic, handy trick like that.”

“It takes years to learn,” Sypha said, drying herself off before pulling on her own leggings. “I’m a pretty good magician, if I may say so myself, but I know I still have so much more I can learn. These are breast-bindings, by the way,” she added, holding up the wrap so Lucian could see. 

“Oh,” Lucian said, feeling very stupid. She pulled on her shirt, using the moment the cloth was over her head to hide her grimace. “Right, yes, I knew that.”

Sypha tied the cloth around her chest and pulled her inner robe down from the branch. “There’s no shame in ignorance.”

Lucian’s face was skeptical. “Says the Speaker.”

“We learn from our stories and songs,” Sypha said. “Can you really fault someone for not knowing something they’ve never heard of before?”

“I… guess not,” Lucian mumbled.

Sypha smiled and nudged her with her hip. “You have your own magic to learn,” she said, and clapped her hands together. “You’ll get to figure it out all by yourself! That would be so exciting.”

Lucian was significantly less enthused. “Great,” she said. “Just what I always wanted, founding a new kind of magic that I don’t know won’t blow me up.”

“Exactly,” Sypha said. “That’s exciting stuff. Come on,” she added, and jerked her chin in the direction of camp. “We should be heading back.”

* * *

“You were gone for a while,” Trevor noted, glancing up when the women returned. “There wasn’t any trouble?”

“We just took our time to relax after everything,” Sypha said as Alucard rose and wordlessly headed for the river. He moved like a ghost, feet making hardly any noise when he passed them by. 

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “Relax how?” he asked, grinning. 

Sypha lobbed an acorn at him, and he caught it easily. “We had a water fight, if you must know.”

“It was nice,” Lucian said. She glanced at the wagon, considered getting her pipe, and decided she’d rather not be incapacitated if they were attacked in the middle of the night.

Trevor shrugged and shifted over the map he had out in front of him, so Sypha and Lucian could see. “We’re a few hours outside of Gresit,” he said, tapping the spot where he was mostly certain they were currently. “And the old estate is here.” He moved his finger, and Lucian’s face fell. 

“That must be miles away,” she said faintly.

“If we travel quickly, we should be able to reach it by tomorrow night,” Trevor said. He glanced up at the setting sun and frowned. “Assuming nothing happens during the night to slow us down.”

Lucian bit her lip, _very_ much not liking how that sounded. “I mean, you three are amazing fighters—”

“Not to us, necessarily,” Trevor said. “But if the _horses_ got injured, or killed, or something happened to the wagon—”

“I could fix it,” Lucian interrupted, and Trevor shot her a look that was both annoyed and curious. “Ah,” she said, hunching in on herself, “possibly.”

“I never took you for a carpenter,” Trevor said, a note of wry amusement in his voice. 

Lucian plucked a twig off the ground and snapped it in half. She held the two halves for her companions to see before touching them together. The twig mended itself instantly, and she tossed it at Trevor.

He turned it over in his hands, eyebrows raised. “Nice trick.”

Sypha _ooh_ ed and snatched the twig out of Trevor’s hands, snapping it again before handing it to Lucian. “Do it again!”

Lucian touched the ends together, and the twig became whole once more. “I’ve honestly never done it on anything larger than a plate,” she confessed. “I don’t know the limits of it.”

“I’m sure you’ll get plenty of time to find out on our quest,” Trevor said sourly. He stood up, brushing dirt from his trousers, and picked up a pair of large sticks set aside from the fire pit he’d set up. “In the meantime…” He held the much longer one out to Lucian, who took it nervously. 

“Be gentle with her,” Sypha said, and Trevor tossed a look at her over his shoulder.

“I’m _rude_ , not _mean_ ,” he said. “Well, priest?” He took several steps out of the way of the camp to a patch of open grass, taking a ready stance.

Lucian held the stick very uncertainly by the end. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hit me,” Trevor said. “Come on, give me your best shot.”

Lucian hesitated, and Trevor huffed impatiently. 

“You aren’t going to hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. 

Her face went red when she realised she was being silly, and she swung the stick like a club. Trevor easily blocked it, and then caught her stick.

“Can I?” he said, and Lucian stepped back, letting go.

“Hold it like this,” he said, gripping much closer to the middle than she had been. “You’re not strong enough to use it like a bloody great sword like Dracula Junior does.”

He handed it back to Lucian, who adjusted her grip, and he nodded in approval. “Use it like a spear,” he said. “You managed to not die using one during last night’s siege, and it’s a good weapon for weaker people to use. It gives you range and versatility, and most of its power comes from your legs, not your arms.”

“It won’t make a very good piercing weapon,” Lucian said doubtfully, looking at the dull end of the stick.

“I know there’s a collection of weapons in the hold,” Trevor said. “I’m sure I can find you something to use, but this will do for now.”

Lucian’s eyes went huge. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Your family’s weapons—”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure,” Trevor said, cutting her off. “Besides, most of them were brought back as trophies. You’ll get more use out of it than if it just sat down there, gathering dust. Now come on,” he said, and rapped her gently over the head with his own stick. “Hit me again. Properly, this time.”

Lucian bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment and lunged. Trevor casually deflected her stab, running his makeshift weapon down the shaft to rap her on the hand. She yelped and dropped her stick, shaking her hand out and glaring at him.

“Trevor,” Sypha scolded.

“It’s fine,” Lucian said before Trevor could protest. “I know I won’t get it so easy in an actual fight.”

Trevor nudged his toe under the stick and kicked it into the air, where Lucian caught it. “Your advantage comes from your range,” he said. “Don’t let me get in close; if I get inside your reach, you’re dead.”

Lucian took a ready stance like she’d seen him do and nodded. 

They practiced for the next half hour while they waited for Alucard to return. Lucian was a quick study and he noticed a definite improvement in her technique, though she was still nowhere near ready to defend herself—and wouldn’t be for a good while. 

“You’re doing better,” Trevor said when he called for a break. “But for the time being you really ought to stay out of the way and let us take care of the fighting.”

Lucian nodded. She noticed a glint of pale gold over Trevor’s shoulder and leaned sideways to see Alucard returning to the group, his shadow stretched long and thin behind him. She hadn’t realised it was getting so late.

“Teaching a priest to fight, Belmont?” Alucard said, a faint smile playing around his mouth. “I’m sure that’s considered sinful by many branches of the church.”

“So’s being a woman priest,” Lucian pointed out. “And fraternising with the excommunicated. And witches. And vampires.”

“She needs to learn how to fight,” Trevor snapped at Alucard. “Unless you wanna be looking out for her ass every time we get attacked.”

Lucian’s face flushed and she took a seat beside Sypha. The Speaker held out her hands, and the fire pit Trevor had put together earlier that evening ignited, crackling merrily. Lucian sighed, leaning on Sypha’s shoulder, and Sypha wrapped an arm around her.

They enjoyed an unsatisfying but filling meal of dried rations while the horses grazed in the nearby bushes, and when they finished their meagre supper, Lucian produced her wedge of cheese, passing it around for everyone to break off a piece.

All in all, Sypha decided, it was a good day. She leaned against Lucian, curled into the taller woman’s side under her cloak, and yawned.

“You know,” she said, her head drooping against Lucian’s shoulder, “I’m still not completely clear on why you don’t catch fire in the daylight.”

“...Me?” Lucian asked tentatively.

Sypha grunted and sat upright, shaking her head and pointing at Alucard. “ _Him_ , silly.”

Alucard’s expression from across the campfire was unreadable. “I am half-human. My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal.”

Sypha was briefly taken aback, and then she smirked. “I would very much like to hear the story of how _that_ happened,” she said, leaning toward Alucard.

He chuckled softly. “She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife.”

“She sounds interesting,” Sypha said, smiling.

“Oh, she was remarkable.” There was no mistaking the wistfulness in Alucard’s voice. “She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Trevor had been sprawled out on the ground, propped up on one elbow, but at this he sat up in shock. “Wait, Dracula taught a human woman how to be a doctor?” He scoffed. “What was first, bloodletting?” He snickered at his own joke; nobody else joined in.

Sypha scowled across the fire at him. He ignored her.

“God,” Alucard muttered. “You still think you’re funny. My father—”

“Dracula,” Trevor cut in. 

“ _Trevor,_ ” Lucian snapped, and he glanced over at her in mild surprise at the unusually harsh tone for her. “Can you let him _fucking_ speak for more than two seconds before you have to butt in? Or are you so insecure you can’t let it go for _two Goddamn seconds?_ ”

He sat back, holding up his hands. Interesting. So the scared little priest had a bit of fire to her.

Of course, he noted she seemed mortified, clapping her hands over her mouth before whispering a muffled, “Sorry.”

Hmph. Well, it was progress.

Alucard shot her one of his rare smiles. “My _father_ ,” he continued, “is a man of science. A philosopher, a scholar, and knows things our society has forgotten three times over.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “Do you still not understand the enormity of what we’re doing?”

He looked back into the fire, contemplating the crackling flames. “He’s gone mad,” he said, voice soft. “And from that, there is no recovering him.”

Trevor scoffed, rolling his eyes at the obvious attempt to gain pity. “Shaaaame,” he said, and leveled a glower at the gorgeous bastard sitting opposite him.

Alucard met his glare, and the half-vampire’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “He’s a repository of centuries of learning,” he said. “He could’ve changed the world—I think he might have, if Mother hadn’t died.”

There was a brief pause, heavy with the weight of all their losses. Alucard looked away, seemingly lost in thought. Lucian pressed up against Sypha, biting her lip.

“She’d sent him out into the world,” Alucard said after a long moment. “That’s why he wasn’t there when the bishops took her.”

Sypha shifted, leaning around Lucian to look at Alucard. “She’d sent him away?”

“She sent him to travel,” Alucard said, stressing the distinction. “To learn the true state of the world, the true nature of humans and how they live.”

Sypha’s breath caught in her throat. “She was… turning him.”

“Imagine if he could have aimed all that knowledge at improving lives,” Alucard said softly. “If the religious inquisition hadn’t proved true all of his worst instincts about humans.”

He would have been content to keep glaring at the fire if Trevor didn’t speak. “And now he’s going to use her death as an excuse to destroy the world.”

“Oh, the world will still be here, Belmont,” Alucard said, sprawling a little more as he shifted to get comfortable. “Trees will still grow, birds will still sing, animals will still hump away in the undergrowth.”

He heard a tiny snort, and glanced over to see Lucian biting her lip, fighting back a smile. 

“But you won’t be here,” he said, and the smile instantly vanished. “None of you. The sun will still set, but you will not see it rise. There will only be Dracula, and his war council, and the hordes of the night.” He leaned forward, staring into the fire as he gathered his thoughts. “He writes in great books, you know,” he continued. “Hews the covers himself from oak, and wraps them with the preserved skin of the people who he hated most. And he writes plans, I’ve seen them. Ideas for darkening clouds and making them as permanent as the air in the frost of the north, great strange flying machines that pull shrouds across the sky to block out the sun.

“Imagine it. A world without humans, under endless invented night. And Dracula in his castle, his revenge so horribly complete that there is nothing left to do but look out over a world without art or memory or laughter, and know that _he did his work well._ That he did it all for love.”

He heard Sypha shift uncomfortably, Trevor clear his throat, but it wasn’t until they heard a rustling from the nearby forest that they looked up.

“Did you hear that?” Trevor asked. 

“Animals humping in the undergrowth?” Alucard asked, unable to resist. A low, menacing chitter came from the trees, and he frowned. “Wait… no.” He reached for his sword, gripping the sheath.

Trevor stood, kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it as they got to their feet, Lucian hastily picking up her stick. “Where is the nearest town?” Trevor asked, trying to think where the beasts might be headed to. “Is it still Gresit?”

“Arges is closer to us,” Sypha said uncertainly. 

A long, soft growl accompanied by more chittering reached their ears, and they turned as one in the direction of the noise. 

Trevor looked around, taking stock of their surroundings before he jogged to a nearby tree and swung himself up into its branches. 

“Stay behind us,” Alucard said to Lucian, touching her shoulder as he moved past her to stand in the road.

“Be careful,” Lucian called quietly after him. He glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a faint smile, hand tightening on his sword’s handle.

He saw them emerge from the darkness, eight of them, all twisted bodies and glowing red eyes. His sword slid from its sheath and he pointed it at the night creatures. “No further.”

Two of them seemed to take this as an invitation and sprinted at him, spittle flying from their mouths. Moving far faster than any human, he dodged to the side when they leapt into the air, and impaled them both in one strike, channeling a burst of magic to light them up with blue-hot flames. They shrieked, and when he withdrew his blade, they fell to the ground and did not move.

Another leapt at him, all sinewy tail and snapping beak, and he deflected its strike before what seemed to be its partner swooped in to breathe a blast of fire at him. He whirled out of the way, dodged another strike, and silently cursed Trevor and whatever he was doing.

The flying demon grabbed its partner by the shoulders and they took off into the air, only to be met by a sharp whip crack that brought the pair crashing to the ground.

_So_ that’s _what Belmont was doing._

Trevor slid out of the tree and his whip cracked again, wrapping around the shaft of the demon’s fallen spear. “Catch!” he called, and with a jerk of his hand sent it flying at Lucian. She dropped her stick and caught the spear—a bit too tall, a bit too heavy for her, but it was a much better weapon.

She lunged forward and stabbed the spear’s previous owner with a vengeance that surprised even herself. The demon screamed and twitched before going still.

“I did it,” she said, more than a little surprised. “I actually—”

There was a horrible fizzling sound, and they turned, only to scatter when a triad of demons behind them began blasting fire from their mouths. 

Lucian sprinted to the side, heart in her throat. She glanced behind her to see Trevor and Alucard dodging the blasts, unable to close the distance. 

One of the demons turned and roared, a fireball racing towards her. Lucian screamed and instinctively threw up her arms.

The fireball never reached her. It reversed direction, along with the other two aimed at the men, and shot back towards the demons. The fire exploded, and the demons roared.

Lucian turned to see Sypha, robes whipping around her legs as she conjured more fire from her fingertips. A blazing ring formed between her hands, acting as both shield and weapon while she defended against the demons’ attacks. She incinerated one, but then a demon—huge, far more enormous than anything Lucian had seen before—roared, its chest lighting up as it prepared to burn Sypha to ash.

“SYPHA!” Lucian screamed.

The flames engulfed the Speaker, but when they died down, Sypha looked completely unharmed. Annoyed, if anything. 

“My turn,” Sypha said, and held out her hands. 

The demon’s chest glowed, readying another attack. It roared—and then choked, clutching its chest when the glow grew brighter and more intense. Lucian looked from Sypha to the demon, and dropped to the ground, covering her head when she realised what was about to happen.

Intense heat washed through the clearing, and even through her closed eyelids, Lucian was nearly blinded from the force of the blast. An awful stench of death and charred flesh met her nose, and she tentatively opened her eyes to see Trevor miss a whip crack, the last demon flying lopsidedly away with burning wings.

Lucian shakily climbed to her feet, using the spear for support, and joined the others who watched the still-burning demon disappear into the darkness.

“Nobody’s going to Arges tonight,” Alucard said.

Trevor looked down at Lucian, and he smiled. “Good work with the spear,” he said. “Guess you’re not totally useless after all.”

Lucian beamed. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you—”

“I know,” Trevor said, striding past her to the wagon. “No need to thank me.”

Lucian bristled, her hands tightening on the spear shaft. She opened her mouth with more than half a mind to yell at him, but changed tack before the words left her mouth. “Thank you,” she said instead, and smiled when Trevor paused.

“...You’re welcome,” he said, and continued to the wagon.

“I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard him say,” Sypha remarked.

“It doesn’t count for much if it follows his usual crass behaviour,” Alucard said. He wiped his blade clean and re-sheathed it. “We should sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day of travel.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sypha fell asleep first. Not surprising, seeing as she was used to traveling in wagons. The other three, however, remained awake, Trevor occasionally grunting and shifting around, Alucard being his inhumanly still self. 

Lucian’s foot kept jittering, her mind racing as she turned over the past several hours. Finally, she extracted herself from between Sypha and Alucard and climbed over the half-vampire, hopping out the back of the wagon.

“Where are you going?” Alucard’s voice came from behind her.

“I dunno,” Lucian said. “For a walk, I guess.”

“May I come with you?”

“Shut _up,_ ” Trevor growled from Sypha’s other side.

Lucian nodded, and Alucard climbed out of the wagon, sword in hand.

“Just in case,” he said at her look. She nodded and grabbed her newly-acquired spear, and they set off, wandering vaguely in the direction of the river. 

Lucian hadn’t expected company on her walk, and she was quiet. Alucard glanced down at her when she’d occasionally bite her lip, sucking wind in through her teeth with a soft _fft-fft-fft_.

“Why do you do that?” he asked, and Lucian startled, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Do what?” she said. “Sorry, I was… spacing.”

“That thing with your mouth.”

His eyes were better than a human’s, and he could see the way her cheeks pinked at the question. “I dunno,” Lucian muttered, glancing away. “It’s just… something I do, I guess. The priests tried exorcising me when it first started. And then—well. It doesn’t matter.” She sighed, readjusting her grip on her spear. There was really no easy way to carry it, but it brought her comfort, even if she knew Alucard would be doing most of the fighting if they were attacked again.

“They don’t have much tolerance for people who are different,” Alucard said. Her attempt at deflecting the question was hardly subtle, and he wondered if she’d been beaten for it. It seemed likely, especially with how jumpy she seemed around them. 

“No,” Lucian said quietly. “They don’t.” She glanced up at him, biting her lip. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother.”

He looked away. A million thoughts went through his head, emotions getting jumbled up and leaving him unsure if he wanted to cry, to scream in anger, or to just hide away until this awful heavy tightness in his chest had gone away.

“You were not responsible for her death,” he said at long last. “The church was. You are not the church.”

“I was a part of it when it happened,” Lucian said. “And… I guess I still am, in a way.” She paused, and tentatively added, “The bishop who did it is dead.”

Alucard’s eyes widened. He wanted to grab her shoulders, demand details, but he merely fixed her with a look, trusting she’d answer.

“It had to have been one of your fa… one of Dracula’s demons,” Lucian said. Her hands twisted on the spear shaft. “I, um. I found his body, when I went to get my things. It looked like half his face had been t-torn off.”

The stutter didn’t go unnoticed. “Did you care for him?” Alucard asked delicately, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Lucian vehemently shook her head. “He was a vile man,” she said, fingers tightening on the spear. “He claimed he was doing God’s work out of a love for the people of Wallachia, but all he cared about was keeping everyone in line with his _values_.”

“He was a bishop,” Alucard said, prying further. “You were an ordained priest, were you not? Surely the bishop would know God’s will.”

Lucian gave him an appraising look. He studied her face—those gentle green eyes, thick, arched eyebrows that framed her long lashes—and wondered how anyone could have thought her a man. 

“I could feel the cathedral’s consecration draining away over the years,” she finally said, and Alucard’s eyebrows flew up at that. “But it felt like the building finally died when he was named the successor to our last bishop. God is not kind—His wrath killed thousands of innocents. But at least He made no secret of it. The bishop just wanted to act out his own sick pleasures against people who were weaker than him.”

They came to the riverbank, and Lucian sat down, setting her spear aside and hugging her knees. Alucard sat beside her, watching her curiously.

“You do not believe in a benevolent God.”

“I believe in God,” Lucian said. “I have seen His grace for myself. I mean…” She held out her hands. “I am a channel for His divinity—a-and whatever else this thing is.” Her hands clenched. “God, if He is _not_ all-powerful, and all-knowing, I think is as close as any being could get. But He is not all-good.”

“You’re an interesting priest, Lucian Enache,” Alucard said.

She gave him a wry smile. “You’re an interesting… half-vampire, Alucard.”

“Dhampir.”

“Hm?”

“Dhampir, is the correct term,” he said. He plucked a twig from the ground, twirling it between his fingers. “There haven’t been many of us, so information is scarce.”

“How come?”

“Humans do not often survive the process of copulating. They tend to end up as a snack, afterwards.”

He heard Lucian stifle a gag, and forced himself not to look at her.

There was a pause.

“That must have been hard,” she finally said. “Growing up not quite belonging to either world.”

“It was, and wasn’t,” Alucard said, considering. “Being half-human, I’m not subject to a lot of vampiric weaknesses. Sunlight, especially, for one, and many holy relics are ineffective against me.”

“Like Trevor’s whip?” Lucian asked. “I heard him say it was consecrated, before we met you.”

Alucard laughed, leaning back on his elbows. “No wonder he was so shaken during our fight,” he said, still chuckling. “He thought he could just get in one good hit and I’d go up in flames.”

Lucian chuckled too, a little nervously. “So if not sunlight and if not consecrated weapons, then what?”

Alucard glanced over at her, unable to resist showing off his fangs when he grinned. “I must admit I have a crippling weakness for books.”

Lucian pulled up a handful of grass and tossed it at his face; he let the blades bounce off without reacting. 

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” he said. “Like I said, there is little information on my kind. But if you’re asking about the blood-drinking—” He was gratified to see he’d guessed right when her face went pink. “—I can survive on human food.”

“...Have you ever tasted human blood before?” Lucian asked.

Alucard hummed softly. “I have not. Father offered to let me taste his reserves before, but I never felt comfortable accepting the offer.”

Lucian nodded. He could see she was dying to ask more, probably _deeply_ personal questions, and he began composing a series of conversation deflectors when she suddenly lay back in the grass, clasping her hands behind her head. 

Alucard lay back with her, folding his hands on his stomach. 

Overhead, a million different stars shone, the entire galaxy spread out in the sky above. 

He heard a quiet sniffle from Lucian, but when he looked over at her, she’d set her jaw determinedly. Her eyes shone in the moonlight, but no tears spilled down.

“When did you discover your abilities?” he asked.

Lucian sighed. “I dunno. Five, six, maybe? Seven? It was an accident, really. I was playing with some of the altar boys in the graveyard, and I tripped and scraped my knee. I put my hands on it—because it, you know, it hurt, and just like that, it was healed.”

“You seem rather inexperienced with your abilities to have had them for so long,” Alucard noted.

Lucian sighed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. “Not a whole lot of chances to practice in secret, growing up in the church,” she said. “I can mend things, I can heal, I can conjure these little balls of light without flame.”

“And yesterday, you blasted a demon with enough force to blow a hole in the town square,” Alucard said, and Lucian sat up. 

“How did you know?”

“Belmont,” he said. “He told me while you were incapacitated in the wagon.”

Lucian lay back down with a soft groan; the note of accusation did not go unnoticed by her. “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t know _what_ happened there. I just thought, maybe, if the holy water actually worked, an exorcism might?”

“The exorcism might have triggered whatever happened, but I can assure you that that is not usually how they go,” Alucard said, amused. He propped himself up on one elbow, knee bent. “May I see your hands again? Without you interrupting me this time?”

Lucian sighed, but sat up again and held out her hands. Alucard pulled his gloves off so he could feel her skin, running a thumb over the palm of her left hand. 

Her breath hitched at his touch. It was gentle, but firm, and his skin was so incredibly soft. She watched his face for any hint of what he was thinking, but it was dark, and as near as she could tell, his face remained as inscrutable as it always did. 

“Light your hands for me again?”

“Won’t that hurt you?” Lucian said anxiously.

Alucard shrugged one shoulder. “I healed from it last time,” he said. “It will sting, but I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Lucian closed her eyes. She’d never managed to summon the radiance at anything less than full force before, but she didn’t want to hurt him. Her palms flickered several times, but didn’t illuminate.

“Enache, please,” Alucard said, sounding mildly annoyed. “I am well aware of my own limits. Work with me.”

Lucian grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes tighter as she called up the warmth in her chest, sending it to her hands. Through her closed eyelids she could see the light, nearly as bright as the explosion Sypha had caused earlier that night, and the awful smell of burning flesh accompanied it. Alucard’s hands squeezed around hers out of reflex, and she gasped in pain, yanking her hands away and immediately extinguishing the light.

“I’m sorry,” Alucard said. As she watched, the burns on his hands healed over. “I did not mean to do that.”

“Consider us even, seeing as you were practically begging me to burn you,” Lucian said shortly, and stood up, snatching her spear off the ground. She began stalking back to the wagon, stifling a groan when Alucard fell into step by her side. “ _What._ ”

“I said _most_ holy relics are unable to harm me,” he said. “But not all.”

She stopped short, and Alucard continued for another pace before checking back on her. 

“You think I’m, what, some sort of human relic?” she asked. “What does that even _mean?_ ”

Alucard tilted his head. “A _living_ relic, though I’d need to do some research before I could be certain,” he said. “Like I said before—I would like to examine Belmont’s collection. It seems like the sort of thing they’d be interested in.”

“But not your father?” Lucian asked tentatively.

“Oh, I’m certain he was interested in such things as well,” Alucard said, motioning for them to keep walking. “But his libraries were rather extensive. It would take centuries to read through all of the books he’s collected—and they’re not exactly available to us at the moment.”

A thought struck her, then. His mother had died just a year ago, so considering the lifespan of most humans, she likely couldn’t have been more than eighty. He looked so young, but considering vampires were immortal, she had no idea if he was twenty or fifty.

“How… old are you, exactly?” she asked tentatively.

“Nineteen,” Alucard replied, and Lucian’s mouth fell open. He looked far and away more mature than any nineteen year old she’d ever met.

“You definitely don’t look it,” she said, and gestured to herself. “I should know, seeing as we’re the same age.”

Alucard gave her a faint smile. “I aged rapidly,” he said. “I’m afraid you might have a few more years to go before you catch up.”

In a fit of childishness, she stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed, flipping her off. 

They made it back to the wagon to find Trevor had drifted off and was mumbling in his sleep. Lucian climbed in and lay down beside Sypha, Alucard joining her on her other side. She turned over, and Sypha snuggled up against her back, throwing an arm over her waist. 

Lucian remained staring up at the canvas cover stretched above them for a very long time until a fitful sleep finally claimed her.


	6. Chapter 6

They set off early the next morning, and Lucian settled in with her pipe. She took a drag, trying to ignore the pointed look Alucard was giving her.

“Must you?” he asked. 

“Sorry, I’ll wait until we’ve stopped,” Lucian muttered, blowing it out and setting the pipe aside.

“You know that’s bad for your lungs, right?” Alucard said, and Lucian shrugged.

“Healing, remember?” she said.

He sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Out of the heroes of prophecy, one’s a drunkard and the other indulges in cannabis.”

Sypha glanced around, frowning and sensing she’d need to break the pair up before they started fighting. “Lucian, why don’t you swap places with me,” she said, handing the reins to Trevor so she could climb over the seat and into the wagon. 

Lucian gave her a hard look, knowing exactly why she’d suggested that, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue, especially not so early in the morning. She and Sypha traded places, and she settled in next to Trevor, folding her arms grumpily.

“I know that feeling,” he murmured to her, and despite herself she cracked a sympathetic smile.

“Booze?”

“Mmhm.” Trevor sighed, tugging on the reins to direct the horses down the left fork in the road. “Only so many times you can end up vomiting in a ditch before you wonder if stopping is worth it.”

“And realising it feels too good to try,” Lucian finished. 

Trevor looked over at her. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” she said, and glanced into the back of the wagon. Sypha and Alucard were talking quietly, their heads together, but almost like he could feel her eyes on him, Alucard looked up.

Lucian quickly turned to face the front again. “You’ll never believe this, but Alucard’s the same.”

A slow smile spread on Trevor’s face. “Oh, I am so using that at some point in the future,” he said. 

Lucian elbowed him. “Can’t you two at least try to be nice to each other?”

“Why?” Trevor said. “He’s a pompous bastard and he knows it.”

“You can fuck off,” Alucard said from behind them, and Trevor laughed.

She might have lived among men all her life but she still didn’t understand this behaviour. “Why did you ask?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, right.” Trevor settled into his seat, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’m, God, I’ve lost track. Twenty-six, maybe?” He gave her a humourless smile. “Take a guess how long I’ve been on my own.”

Lucian closed her eyes, trying to think back. She’d been a small child when word came to the cathedral that the Belmonts had been eradicated. “ _Burned off this Earth like they will burn in Hell,_ ” she remembered Father Dorin laughing.

“Fourteen years,” she said, opening her eyes. “I was still new at the Cathedral when I heard what happened.”

“Huh,” Trevor said. “I guess it’s twenty-six after all.”

“You’ve been on your own since you were _twelve?_ ” Lucian said, her voice barely above a whisper. “When… did…?”

“The drinking start? Not long after that,” Trevor said. “It helps dull the pain for me, but what about you? There’s no way you started smoking recently, so something had to have happened if you’re using it to cope.”

Lucian fiddled with the hem of her tunic. “I get scared a lot,” she finally said, deciding now was not the time to go into her treatment at the hands of the priests. “For no reason. I-it’s like my whole body just seizes up and I can’t breathe, like there’s iron bands around my chest. The smoking relaxes me, helps me pretend I’m normal.”

“You seemed like you were doing fine yesterday,” Trevor said, but Lucian shook her head.

“Adrenaline is one hell of a drug,” she said. “I was too busy being terrified that I forgot to panic.”

“You know, none of that _should_ make sense, but I get it,” Trevor said. He passed the reins over to Lucian and closed his eyes. “Here, you drive.”

Lucian swallowed but gripped the reins like she’d seen him do. It couldn’t be _that_ hard, surely?

“Tell you what,” Trevor said, “when we get to the hold tonight, I’m gonna see if I can find any alcohol down there, and you and I can share a drink while Sypha and the shirtless bloodsucker do their magic thing.”

“Too good to pass up,” Lucian murmured to herself.

One of Trevor’s eyes cracked open. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Lucian said. 

“Maybe while we’re drinking we can look through the weapons,” Trevor added. “That spear we got last night is way too big for you.”

Lucian hesitated. “Is that really such a good idea, looking at weapons while inebriated?”

“I’d listen to her if I were you, Belmont,” Alucard said. “Especially since some of us will be doing real work.”

“We’re not going to get wasted,” Trevor said impatiently. “Just a little bit to loosen up after the trip. Hey—if you removed that stick up your arse, you might even find it fun.”

“Are you always this quick-witted, or did you spend last night thinking up insults?”

Sypha groaned quietly.

“Can’t really have us swap seats now, Sypha,” Lucian said, glancing over her shoulder at the Speaker.

“That’s because you are not possessed of this _need_ to come out on top of a perceived rival,” Sypha said.

Alucard smirked at Trevor. “Listen to that, Belmont. She thinks we’re rivals when I clearly bested you rather handily the other night.”

Trevor snorted. “I’m out of practice,” he said. “Give me a week, and then I’m asking you for a rematch.”

“Mhm. Good luck staying alive for a week,” Alucard said, tilting his head. “Tell me, how many times did the cannabis-infused priest have to heal you on your way down to my crypt?”

“That,” Trevor said, sitting up and twisting in his seat to jab a finger at Alucard, “was _not_ because you were better than me. It’s because you apparently have all the construction skills of a cannabis-infused priest.”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Lucian said, sliding down in her seat.

“Actually, I take that back, because she’s better at repairing shit than you,” Trevor said. “ _She_ wouldn’t have made death traps that fall apart the instant they’re so much as looked at.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Sypha jumped in, glad to find the chance to break up the squabbling. “You weren’t there when she showed us, were you, Alucard? Lucian can—”

“Mend things,” Alucard said. “She mentioned as such to me last night.”

Sypha frowned, and he remembered she’d already been asleep when they’d left the wagon. He said so, and Sypha’s frown cleared.

“Well, did you two have a nice talk?” she asked.

“We did,” Lucian said curtly, snapping the reins lightly when the horses began to slow. “Until he asked me to burn his hands.”

“I asked for a demonstration of your powers,” Alucard said.

“Which burned you, like we _knew_ would happen—”

“I believe she might be a living relic.”

Lucian grit her teeth, refusing to turn around to glare at him. “Which I’m still not really clear on what that means.”

“It means you’ve got an inherent connection with the big ugly bastard in the clouds,” Trevor said. “I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it; the church considers their existence to be blasphemy, because the legend goes that Christ was one of ‘em.”

Lucian _did_ whirl at that, her eyes going huge. “I—beg your pardon?” she spluttered.

“Just an ordinary man, blessed with extraordinary abilities,” Sypha said. “We Speakers have passed down legends of others—more than a few were burned for witchcraft, but some had their abilities recognised as miracles and were canonised as saints—oh!” She clapped her hands together. “ _That’s_ why I didn’t recognise your magic—I think they might be miracles!”

Lucian spluttered some more before falling into a numb shock, staring down at her hands without blinking. Trevor leaned over and tugged the reins out of her hand so he could keep the horses on track.

“Well done, Belnades,” Alucard said. “I think you finally managed to break her.”

Sypha leaned forward and snapped her fingers lightly in front of Lucian’s face. Lucian didn’t react, but when Sypha carefully prodded her arm, Lucian yelped and jumped in her seat, startling Trevor.

“There is no way in Hell that can be right,” she said. “I—I mean, I’m hardly the most devout, but even I’ve seen proof for myself that Jesus _is_ the son of God—”

“Ah,” Sypha said, tapping her nose. “But he _did_ ascend into Heaven to take his place at God’s side after his resurrection, did he not? He was the first, and firstborn children _do_ tend to be the favourite,” she added teasingly. 

“Metaphorical, then,” Lucian said. Her sight seemed to tunnel-vision until she could see nothing else but Sypha’s bright orange hair. “But what about the miracles in the Old Testament? Moses, Elijah, Elisha?”

“Blessings bestowed at the time of need,” Alucard said. “But none of them with an inherent connection to the divine. That would explain why you were able to burn me even if most holy weapons do not.”

“Floating vampire Jesus, glowing hands Jesus,” Trevor muttered. He rolled his eyes and looked over at Sypha. “Don’t tell me you’re fire Jesus.”

Sypha laughed. “Considering how Speakers are the enemies of God, I highly doubt that.”

Lucian faintly managed to say, “That doesn’t make us enemies, does it? I-if what you say is true.”

Sypha waved a dismissive hand. “Yeshua the Christ wasn’t about bringing down the wrath of the divine upon the land,” she said. “He sacrificed himself out of love for humanity.” She paused, and with a small smile, said, “Almost like what you did for Trevor down in the crypt, yesterday.”

Lucian let her chin hit the back of the driver’s seat and she gripped her hair in both hands, staring blankly at the wooden floorboards. She was beginning to hyperventilate, and a high-pitched whine escaped her mouth before she shoved in her hand, biting down hard to muffle it.

_Shit_. It was happening again. She wasn’t in a full-blown panic yet, but it was a very near thing, and she didn’t think she could stop it snowballing.

Alucard groaned. “Give her the pipe,” he said, and Sypha grabbed it from where Lucian had left it on the wagon floor. She ignited it with a small flame from her fingertip and passed it up to Lucian, who curled around it, breathing too fast to try inhaling safely.

“Hey,” Trevor said, stopping the horses and gripping her shoulder. “Hey, look. We’re right here, we’re in the middle of the forest, you’re with friends, in a wagon, the sky’s a nice blue. Deep breaths—in… out… in…”

Lucian’s chest heaved, and gradually, as Trevor spoke, her breathing slowed, though her heart was still racing. She was certain Trevor could feel it from where his hand rested on her back. She sat up and took a shaky pull on the pipe, turning her head so she wasn’t exhaling smoke on him—so he couldn’t see her tears.

“How did you do that?” she asked, hands wrapping around the pipe bowl.

Trevor stayed looking ahead when he answered. “One of my older sisters suffered from the same ailment,” he said. “...I think. God, no wonder you smoke that stuff, it’s supposed to relax you until you can’t move.” He snapped the reins, urging the horses into walking again.

“You saw her during the journey yesterday,” Alucard said dryly, and Lucian closed her eyes, hot tears of shame and anger rolling down her cheeks. “Good work, Belmont.”

“Careful there,” Trevor said, shooting a grin over his shoulder. “I might actually start to think you _like_ me.”

“Not a chance in Hell,” Alucard replied, grinning back.

How was it that these two could trade insults and yet seem to become closer friends for it? Was she just being weak? That she couldn’t take a joke? The other altar boys made fun of her because she was the most emotional of them, the one most prone to tears of frustration before she would run off and find someplace to cry, to curl up and gasp in great, heaving sobs until the inexplicable sudden terror subsided, at which point she’d be forced to return to the inevitable beating for shirking her duties.

She was _wrong_. Not just her body, but her mind. She respected the others greatly despite their short time together, but they seemed so much more certain of her capabilities than was right. What sort of great hero of prophecy was so ready to cry at a moment’s notice and couldn’t control her own emotions?

Sypha was so put-together, and Trevor and Alucard, well… she wasn’t quite able to get a read on them yet, but they were so stoic and unflappable in the face of what they had to do.

She took another pull, looked over at Trevor, and reconsidered. Hadn’t he _just_ told her he was still hurting from the loss of his family, even nearly a decade and a half later? Which, she thought, her heart seeming to shrivel in her chest, was not a good prospect for her. 

But he was vulnerable, too. And Alucard seemed like he missed his parents terribly, though she still had trouble wrapping her head around him missing his father. Maybe—and she knew Trevor would scoff if she ever voiced the thought—maybe, before everything had gone to hell, he’d actually been a good man.

Sypha had lost her parents as well, and though it didn’t hit with the same immediate impact as it did for the rest of them, Lucian knew she was hurting like they all did.

The heroes of prophecy, a trio of maladjusted orphans (well, one in spirit, anyway) and one slightly better-adjusted orphan with a penchant for pyromania.

The world was _fucked._

* * *

Trevor spent most of the journey bantering with Alucard. Every so often, he’d lean over to touch Lucian’s shoulder, and she’d sit up straighter from where she’d been dangerously close to tipping off the side of the cart.

He shouldn’t judge. He _couldn’t_ judge. When he’d been her age he’d been getting drunk at any seedy tavern he could find, punching out the bartender when he realised he couldn’t pay, and staggering off into the forest to collapse in a shivering heap under a tree, maybe wake up with a stray cat on his chest. Hell, just a few days before they met, he was getting the shit kicked out of him by a bunch of inbred farmers who’d spied the crest on his tunic.

It was a bad idea, he knew, but he was terrified if he stopped adding it to his clothes, he’d lose a part of his family.

_God, I need a drink,_ he thought, reaching over to pull her against his side, propping her against him so she wouldn’t be in danger of falling off. Lucian mumbled and pressed her face into his armpit, and he grimaced.

“I don’t think it smells very good there,” Trevor said.

“Nope,” Lucian agreed, and burrowed further under his arm.

Sypha leaned over the back of the seat, grinning. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

“Oh, shut up,” Trevor muttered. “I’m just making sure our glowing hands Jesus doesn’t fall out of her seat.”

“That was a really nice thing you did, earlier,” Sypha said. “Helping her to calm down like you did.”

Trevor huffed. “It was either get her shit together or wait for possibly half an hour while she wailed and we sat around awkwardly.”

“But you knew how to do it because of your sister,” Sypha pressed, and something knotted in Trevor’s chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

He heard Sypha inhale, but from behind her came Alucard’s voice. “Let him be.”

“I still say he was being nice,” Sypha said, sitting back down opposite Alucard.

“I was being practical,” Trevor said.

“You can be nice _and_ practical,” Sypha said, and Trevor groaned quietly.

“I think he’s nice,” Lucian said, still squashed under his arm.

Alucard chuckled and held his hands up. “Clearly I’m outvoted here,” he said. “Though you’re both also clearly wrong.” He shot a fanged smile at Trevor. “Prick.”

“Asshole,” Trevor said, flipping him off before shifting Lucian into a slightly more comfortable position under his arm.

Sypha cleared her throat. “It’s almost sundown—are we close? I would not like to be out in the dark for too long again.”

Trevor looked around, tilting his head. “I’m starting to recognise some of the area,” he said. “I haven’t been back here in years, though; I couldn’t tell you how close we are. But we’re getting there.”

“Did you explore a lot as a kid?” Lucian asked, sounding more alert than she had been. She remained under his arm, but when Trevor glanced at her, she looked like she was sobering up.

Well, that wouldn’t last once he found the wine.

“I did,” he said, pulling away. “My sisters and I spent a lot of time in these woods, pretending to fight monsters. They always made me be the monsters, of course.”

Sypha laughed. “How many sisters? Or siblings?”

“Just the two sisters,” Trevor said. “Sonia and Eve. Both older.”

“I was the older sister,” Lucian said softly. “I never got to know Gavril very well before he…” She trailed off. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d have been a pretty cool little brother.”

Trevor looked at her with no small amusement. “You _did_ get the part where I’m seven years older than you?”

“And yet you insist on acting like an overgrown manchild, comparing ages,” Alucard drawled. 

Trevor didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin. “That sounds exactly like something a bratty teenager would say.”

“ _Lucian_ ,” Alucard said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was an issue!” she said, biting her lip.

“Wait.” Sypha poked Alucard’s arm, and he twitched it away from her finger. “You don’t _look_ like a teenager.”

Alucard sighed, tired of having to explain himself again to much ruder company. “I aged quickly,” he said, in a tone that booked no more room for discussion.

“Fucking vampires,” Trevor muttered.

“They’re certainly fucking more than you, with the way you smell,” Alucard shot back.

“I told you, I’ll bathe when we get there,” Trevor snapped. 

“I’ll believe it when I smell it,” Alucard said, folding his arms and slouching back against the wall. 

Trevor had to resist the urge to turn around and smack him upside the head, especially considering Alucard could easily rip his arm from its socket if he so wished. 

But _damn_ if that bratty half-breed wasn’t infuriatingly gorgeo—

Infuriating.

_Just_ infuriating.

The sun sank lower and Lucian traded places with Sypha again, and she and Alucard stared anxiously out the back of the wagon while Trevor and Sypha took the front. If anything tried to attack them, they’d be ready.

Lucian glanced over at Alucard as they sat next to each other, before glancing away again, sucking air through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft._

Alucard noticed, and sighed. “You’re upset with me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You haven’t even known me for two days and think you do,” Lucian said. “ _Judge not, that ye not be judged_? Ring any bells?”

Alucard levelled a flat look at her, and it took all of her self-control not to shrink away.

“I’ll confess, I’d imagined the heroes of prophecy to be a little more put-together,” Alucard said.

Lucian felt her hackles rise at that before her fists clenched in her tunic hem, and she forced them to relax, looking out over the road behind them and refusing to look at the dhampir. 

“... _But_ ,” Alucard said, his voice low, and her ears pricked. “The last son of the Belmonts and a living relic are nothing to sneeze at. Even if they do come with rough edges.” He glowered at her. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Is this in the sort of joking ‘don’t tell him’ way, or the ‘I actually have a crush on him’ way—”

Alucard hissed, his eyes briefly flaring red, and Lucian flinched hard enough she cracked her elbow against the wall of the wagon with a yelp.

“Got it,” she said, rubbing her elbow and wincing.

Alucard fixed her with a hard look. “I thought that sort of thing was… _frowned_ upon by your church.”

“S’not my church,” Lucian muttered. Her fingers closed around her elbow, nails biting into the skin through the fabric of her shirt. 

“Careful, Enache,” Alucard said, a gleam in his eye. “That’s heresy.”

Lucian snorted, and Alucard chuckled as well, leaning back on his elbows.

“I kissed another altar boy when we were fifteen,” Lucian blurted out, and Alucard turned to her, eyebrows raised.

“Did he know?”

Lucian’s face went pink and she shook her head. “I mean, we… the other altar boys and I sort of stole the sacramental wine, got drunk, and then one of them ended up kissing me.”

Alucard threw his head back and laughed, and Lucian’s shoulders hunched when she heard Trevor’s belly laugh and Sypha’s giggling from the front seat.

“What?” she snapped. “He was cute.”

“The little priest stealing the wine and getting another boy to kiss her,” Trevor snickered. “Nice.”

Lucian folded her arms uncomfortably over her chest, and Trevor wondered for a moment if he’d gone too far when a familiar glimpse out of the corner of his eye had him whirling around. 

His heart caught in his throat as the memories crowded him. “There,” he said, and hesitantly pointed to a burnt-out, gnarled old oak. “That’s my tree. I… used to play in that tree.” He let his hand fall, staring at the charred branches. “We’re nearly at the house.”

“It’s hard to imagine you playing,” Sypha said, nudging his shoulder gently.

Trevor let out a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah. Suppose so.” He leaned forward, just the slightest bit, to stare at the tree. “But it was everything, that tree. It was my house, and my boat, and my fort.” He bit back a sigh, turning away from the charred trunk so he wouldn’t have to look at it. “Anything I wanted it to be.”

Sypha put a hand on his arm; Trevor was quiet, but when the wagon went past and the tree was nearly out of sight, he turned around, staring after it.

“...Goodnight, tree.”

The words escaped him before he realised what he’d said, but Sypha didn’t speak of it after the fact. She just placed a hand on his forearm and leaned her head on his shoulder, and he let her, trying not to let it show how glad he was for the contact.


	7. Chapter 7

They pulled up in the ruined courtyard of the estate. Trevor swallowed down his anger at seeing what the once-beautiful manor had been reduced to, trying to focus on the charred walls rather than the once-gleaming stone he still remembered.

The estate had been demolished long ago in his mind, his family burned with it.

He climbed down from the wagon and stood for a moment, hand resting on one of the horse’s necks while he examined the manor.

Crumbling walls and towers, all blackened from soot. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after fourteen years, but seeing how the fire, and then a decade and a half of weathering, had reduced the manor to a shell of its once-former glory… it was a struggle to tamp down his emotions, to not let them see how much the sight of it twisted like a dull blade in his heart.

He’d grown up here, running through the courtyard with his sisters, his father showing them how to wield the whip, his mother teaching them how to use a sword. 

His aunt and uncle—his father’s brother and his wife—would come to visit often, to consult the hold’s tomes and to catch up his parents on whatever evil schemes the monsters of the world were plotting.

Sonia, the eldest, had a beau down in the village. Trevor had gone looking for him after the arson, after the _murders_ , but the boyfriend was nowhere to be found. She would have been thirty, now, likely with little Belmonts of her own to train.

Eve was the middle child but still a good two years older than him, and was only just starting to get interested in boys when…

Looking up at the walls was reopening painful memories he’d spent years trying to drown out. He shook his head to clear it, already thinking about his impending drink.

They unhitched the horses and tied them to a tree to graze, and retrieved torches from the wagon. Sypha lit them with her magic, and they approached the manor, Trevor leading the way.

This would have been the entry hall. He could still picture the magnificent stairway, now half-collapsed. The long rug leading deeper into the manor, now burned away without so much as a scorch mark to show where it had been.

“This was your home?” Sypha asked softly from behind him. “You grew up here?”

Trevor’s shoulders were stiff from tension. “Yeah,” he said, hating the growing lump in his throat. Fourteen years of wandering, of trying to forget, and all he could do was be haunted by the memories.

He needed them now, though, if he was going to remember where the entrance to the hold was.

“I can’t imagine what it was like to grow up in a single place,” Sypha said. She held her torch higher, going over to the staircase to examine the rusting, wrought-iron railing. 

Trevor stepped through a crumbling arch to where the parlor used to be… he thought. “It was… it was fine,” he said, crouching to examine the ground. It had to be around here somewhere. “It wasn’t the worst way to grow up.” Certainly not like sleeping in ditches was.

“What did you do, after… it happened?” Lucian asked hesitantly, coming to help him search. She’d have no idea what she was looking for, but he appreciated the gesture.

Trevor shrugged, brushing a bit of dust off his tunic. “I just ended up wandering,” he said. “Spent a while stealing to survive before I got good at hunting. Sell some game for coin, keep some for myself, spend the coin at a tavern. Sometimes I’d even have enough to get a room for a night.”

“You should not have had to endure losing your home so young,” Alucard said, placing a hand on the archway. Trevor looked up, surprised by what sounded almost like _sympathy_ coming from the bloodsucker. “My own childhood wasn’t perfect, but it was… largely happy.”

“This coming from the teenage git with Dracula as a father,” Trevor said.

There was a pause, and then the four of them started giggling. Trevor couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, properly laughed, and warmth spread through his chest. It was a good feeling—certainly a lot better than the dismay of returning home.

It had been so long he’d forgotten a lot of what it looked like. 

He stood and moved into the next room, hoping it would be there. He lifted his torch, looking around, and a gleam of gold from under the rubble caught his eye. He pushed aside one of the rocks and smiled to himself when he knew he’d found it.

“This is it,” he called to the others. He handed his torch off to Sypha and strained against one of the larger rocks.

“Your hidden entrance looks like a hearthstone,” Alucard said dubiously. 

Trevor managed to lift the rock and glowered at him. “Just help me clear it,” he grunted.

He turned to set down the rock when something flew past behind him and landed with a loud clatter of stone on stone. He turned to see Alucard effortlessly flinging rocks one-handed over his shoulder, looking almost bored.

Fucking prick, showing off his vampire strength. It made Trevor wonder if those gorgeous muscles were just for show.

Sypha and Lucian were watching with stunned expressions; Lucian’s mouth had fallen open slightly, watching in awe. He went to stand with them, and Sypha wordlessly handed his torch back, still staring at Alucard.

“Congratulations,” Alucard said, sitting back on his haunches when he’d uncovered the door. “You’ve just discovered a big piece of stone.”

“It’s the door,” Trevor said flatly. 

“Do we lift it, or…?” Sypha asked.

Alucard gripped the sides and frowned. “That’s odd,” he murmured. “I don’t seem to be able to get any purchase on it.”

Lucian crouched beside him to examine the door. “Is this for decoration, or are these symbols writing?” she asked, and Sypha knelt on Alucard’s other side. Trevor watched uncomfortably, knowing they were going to give him shit for not knowing how to actually open it.

“Hmm,” Sypha said, running her fingers over the door. Her puzzled frown vanished. “Ah, I see now! ...You won’t be able to lift it.”

“So it _is_ writing?” Lucian asked, and Sypha nodded.

“It’s a warding spell; it would take an excessive amount of force to get through.”

Trevor sighed. “Well, my family got it up somehow, I was taken down there as a child.”

“Did you see them lift it?” Sypha asked.

Trevor’s heart was heavy. It had been a big day for him and his sisters when they were each finally allowed in to see their family’s legacy. Sonia had gotten to go first, because she was the eldest, and Trevor and Eve complained for weeks after, especially when Sonia refused to say what was down there, just to be mean. When it was finally his turn, he protested not being allowed to know how to open it, only for his father to say it was for his own safety and shut the conversation down.

“No,” he said, looking away. “They brought me through once it was open. They told me they’d teach me how to do it one day. I suppose there was a special trick.”

“Were your parents magicians?” Sypha said suddenly. 

“Not as such,” he said, glancing down at her. “I mean, they knew a lot, but this door was put in by one of our ancestors.”

“Well, I guess the special trick was passed down the generations, the way we Speakers transmit knowledge,” Sypha said. “Your parents knew the trick, but didn’t know where it came from or what it really was.” She stood up suddenly and passed her own torch off to Alucard. “Stand back.”

Lucian scrambled away at once; Trevor and Alucard moved a little less frantically, but they’d seen enough of Sypha’s power to know they did not want to be near whatever she was about to do.

Her hands glowed, and the door lit up as well. Sypha placed her hands on it, murmuring words of power. The light grew brighter and became an explosion of ghostly feathers rising up from the door. 

Their clothes whipped in the sudden wind, the light grew brighter and brighter—and vanished, taking the door with it. Wide stone steps descended into the darkness below, and Trevor’s stomach lurched at the prospect of seeing the hold again.

Sypha chuckled to herself, lowering her hands. “Open sesame.”

“Was that an Enochian ward?” Alucard asked, handing her torch back. 

“Yes,” Sypha said smugly. “I know that language.”

Alucard smirked. “Well, well. Naughty Belmonts hunting all the terrible things of the forest, but sitting on a magic door opened by occult language.”

“I didn’t _know_ it was a fucking magic door,” Trevor snapped, not at all in the mood for banter this time. “Doesn’t make us black magicians.” 

He stalked down the stairs, gritting his teeth when Alucard called after him, “But you know the word ‘Teloch’ means ‘of death’, right?”

“Shut up,” Trevor sighed.

“It’s the magical door of death, Belmont.”

He wanted to turn around and strangle him. “Are you coming or what?”

Once they were far enough down the steps so as not to knock their heads, Sypha turned and cast another spell, recalling the door. “We wouldn’t want any night creatures following us down here, would we?”

“What about the horses?” Lucian asked anxiously.

“They’ll be fine,” Trevor said. “The things only ever go after humans.”

They descended into the main entrance, Trevor’s heart twisting when he saw the red tapestries with the family crest, the busts, the portrait of Leon Belmont hanging proudly on the wall opposite. It looked just the way he remembered it—he’d thought he would never lay eyes on this place again, but here he was, along with a witch, a member of the church that killed his family, and a half-vampire in tow.

His ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they knew.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucian said softly, and he glanced over his shoulder to see she had her hands over her mouth, eyes wide as she looked around. He spared a smile in her direction before leading them to the spiral staircase.

“Belmont isn’t a Wallachian name,” Sypha mused out loud as they descended deeper. “That just dawned on me.”

“No,” Trevor said. He could have recited the story in his sleep, but didn’t feel like sharing the whole thing at once, so he summarised. “The family’s originally from the kingdom of France, but we moved out of there a few hundred years ago.”

“Moved, or chased?” Alucard said snidely.

“ _Moved_ , thank you very much.”

“With people behind you waving pitchforks and torches?” Alucard said. 

Sypha facepalmed.

“No,” Trevor said, struggling to keep his temper. He took a deep breath. “No,” he repeated, “we’re professionals. We move where the work is.”

“What does that even mean?” Sypha asked. They reached the bottom of the staircase, and Lucian immediately peeled away to examine the silver crest inlaid on the floor. Trevor whistled to get her attention and she jogged back to join them at the door set in the wall, grinning sheepishly. 

“All the dark things moved to the east,” Trevor said, stopping in front of the door and staring at the Belmont crest that adorned it. “It was a Leon Belmont who entered the region first.” He opened the door, dust falling from the ceiling as he lifted his torch, peering into the depths of the library before leading them inside. “He built this house, and dug the foundations under it.”

“ _How?_ ” Lucian said. “This place is enormous, but I can’t imagine a Belmont wanting any builders to know—word could have gotten out.”

“Who knows?” Trevor said, shrugging. “That particular bit of information is lost to history.”

Sypha noticed the lanterns on the walls and lit them with a quick spell, and the library filled with a warm glow.

Lucian gasped, Alucard’s mouth fell open, and Sypha ran forward to peer over the balcony, gaping at the room below that seemed to go on forever.

Hundreds upon hundreds of bookshelves, thousands upon thousands of books, cases of trophies from successful hunts, statues, weapons and magical items, the skeleton of an enormous monster hanging from chains. The work of dozens of lifetimes, collected and stored and catalogued and preserved for future generations. It was almost like getting his family back.

Almost.

Sypha leaned dangerously far out over the railing in awe, and Lucian joined her, leaning her forearms against the wooden bannister and shaking her head in amazement.

“My God,” Sypha whispered.

Trevor had to admit, their reactions were _very_ fun to watch. He’d been much the same, his first time seeing the place. “The memory of my family,” he said, gazing around for a moment before moving farther down another set of stairs. His fingers brushed the railing, polished smooth from generations of hands. “All that’s left of us.”

“Is it organised?” Sypha asked excitedly, chasing after him, and he turned around. “Is there a way to find things?”

Alucard followed, an odd expression on his face. “I imagine one sacrifices a chicken and divines the location of the book you want from the intestines.” He shot Trevor a look as he passed. “Maybe Belmont has a crystal ball in here you could ask.”

Trevor fixed him with a flat stare. “ _Shut up._ ”

“It’s an impressive tip, Belmont, but it is, nonetheless, a tip,” Alucard said, and Trevor could hear the condescension dripping from his voice. “Your ancestors were apparently mentally ill hoarders. I fully expect to find family cats mummified under some of these shelves.”

It would be so easy to just shove him down the stairs. 

“Unless your family preferred to eat them.”

Just reach out and push him, right between the shoulders. 

Or maybe plant his foot up his ass.

“There’s an index on the lectern at the bottom,” Trevor said, stalking past and resisting the urge to take a swing at that chiseled jaw. 

“So this really is a managed collection!” Sypha said excitedly. 

They reached a lower level, and Lucian immediately took several steps in the direction of one of the shelves. Trevor caught her by the back of her cloak, pulling her away so she wouldn’t wander off. 

“It’s the work of generations,” Trevor said, letting go. “An archive of everything we’ve found and learned since the days of Leon Belmont.”

They reached the bottom and headed for the lectern, Sypha and Lucian examining the items on the shelves as they passed. Glass bottles full of potions, some cracked from age; helmets, some polished and some starting to rust; a jar full of curled, taloned bird’s feet; silver rings large enough to be bracelets; a solid gold crucifix.

“What was your Leon Belmont doing in Wallachia?” Sypha asked, running a hand over one of the shelves.

It occurred to Trevor that Alucard was being strangely quiet, and he turned around to see the dhampir standing in front of the glass case by the stairs.

_Oh._

“Hunting Dracula,” Alucard answered, his voice low.

Trevor could tell from where he was standing _which_ skull he was looking at.

Lucian tore her eyes away from an hourglass filled with shimmering black sand, frowned, and went to stand by him, her breath catching when she saw what was in the case. She glanced at Alucard, whose expression was unreadable.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“I’m not particularly enthused to be here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alucard replied, eyes still fixed on the skull of a vampire child.

“You’ve been getting meaner to Trevor since we arrived,” Lucian noted, and Alucard looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Is this why?”

“I didn’t know these were down here,” Alucard said, re-focusing on the skulls. “I suspected, though. His family has hunted my kind for generations. There were bound to be some who wanted _trophies._ ”

Lucian touched his arm, but he drew away to start perusing the books.

“Careful, Trevor!” she heard Sypha call from the lectern in response to something he must have said. “You almost sounded excited about something.”

Lucian dropped her bag by the lectern and went to see what was going on, and found Trevor dragging an enormous red chest from a hole in the wall.

“Need a hand?” she asked when he slipped on the pile of books strewn on the floor. 

“Would be nice,” Trevor grunted, and Lucian took the other handle, helping him carry the chest to the centre of the room. A warmth seemed to come from within, and Lucian placed her hand on the lid when they set it down.

“What’s inside?” she asked, her eyes going wide. “It feels… _holy_.”

Trevor’s eyebrows went up at her comment. “You can sense that?”

“I guess so,” Lucian said awkwardly while he knelt to try and break the lock. “Something consecrated? An artefact?”

“You could say that,” Trevor said, grunting when the padlock snapped. The chest momentarily flared with light, and when it died down, he lifted the latch with shaking hands and opened the lid.

Lucian leaned in to see a coiled chain with an intricate, but no less deadly, mace head. Trevor gasped and picked it up almost reverently. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Sypha glanced over to see what they were admiring. “What on Earth is that ugly thing?”

“I don’t believe they hid it,” Trevor said like he hadn’t even heard. He stood up and let the chain uncoil through his fingers, the head clattering on the floor. “It’s the Morning Star!”

Sypha just turned another page of the index, interest already gone.

“What is it?” Lucian asked. She touched the handle carefully, only to jerk it back when she felt the electric buzz of potent holy energy run up her arm. “Fuck! I’ve never felt anything like this!”

“It’s the greatest treasure my family’s passed down since the days of Leon Belmont,” Trevor said, awestruck. “This was his chain, said to be enchanted with potent alchemy and consecrated. It’s the most powerful weapon you could want, going up against vampires.”

“That must be one _Hell_ of a consecration,” Lucian said, shaking out her hand.

Trevor snickered. “Was that a pun?”

“Unintentional… but yes.” Lucian smiled at him. “You must be pleased.”

“ _Very._ ” Trevor re-coiled the Morning Star and affixed it to his belt next to his other whip. “Come on, let’s find you a weapon, and then I’m getting drunk.”

“Is there wine in this library?” Lucian said skeptically, trailing after him.

“It’s more than just a library,” Trevor said. “It’s a bunker of sorts, designed to hold out in case of a siege. It’s no underground manor, but it’s serviceable.” He turned down another row of shelves, hoping he remembered where the weapons were.

He did, and he made a beeline for the spears propped against one of the shelves. Lucian promptly got sidetracked again, picking up a curved dagger with a pommel in the shape of a snake’s head. She turned it over in her hands, shrugged, and set it back down before picking up a different one, sucking air in through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft._

“Over here,” Trevor called. “You’re very easily distracted, aren’t you?”

“It’s a curse,” Lucian replied lightly, setting down the dagger. A gleam of silver caught her eye and she picked up a strange-looking device, a metal cylinder with a blade on each end, one significantly shorter than the other, and a tingle of holy magic ran up her arm. “What’s this?” she asked, holding it up for Trevor to see. “A double-ended dagger?”

Trevor set a spear with a polished oak shaft back down and turned to look. He grinned when he saw it and went over to Lucian, holding his hand out. “This was my grandmother’s,” he said fondly, fingers closing around the hilt when Lucian passed it over to him. “And, I think, now it’s yours.”

“I… thank you,” Lucian said uncertainly. “But I thought you said a spear would be better?”

Trevor took a step to the right so he wouldn’t hit her, and with a thought, the dagger expanded into a spear roughly six and a half feet long. Lucian jumped, startled, but caught the spear by the shaft when Trevor lightly tossed it horizontally at her. 

“It’s a magic spear,” he said. “Consecrated, too. Collapses and expands at will. Good for concealment, or stabbing something if it gets inside your range. I should have known it was down here—I’d just assumed she was buried with it.”

Lucian ran a reverent hand along the cool metal of the shaft, a small smile on her face. “It’s beautiful,” she said. She collapsed the spear and carefully tucked it in her belt. “I promise I’ll treat it with care.”

“It’s a weapon—I think my grandmother would rather you treated it like that, instead,” Trevor said. He clapped her on the shoulder. “Let’s go find that wine.”

They did not, in fact, find that wine. They walked past shelves full of sheathed swords, and the ruby-studded hilt of one caught Trevor’s eye. 

“ _No_ way,” he said, lifting it off the shelf.

“Is that the sword from the portrait upstairs?” Lucian asked, eyebrows flying up.

Trevor drew it out of the sheath and smiled. “It _is._ Leon’s sword.”

“You’re getting all sorts of new toys today,” Lucian teased. “Look at you—taking back the Belmont name.”

Trevor’s smile widened a bit at that. “I guess so,” he said, and slid the sword back into its sheath before affixing it to his belt.

Lucian cleared her throat, a little nervous to how he would react. “You might want to be a bit tactful if you show those to Alucard.”

The smile immediately slid off Trevor’s face. “Why the hell should I be _tactful_ to a walking fuck-knob who’s been taking the piss out of my dead family all evening?”

“I think he’s doing it because he’s scared,” Lucian said. 

Trevor barked out a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Lucian said. “This place is like a—a shrine to killing vampires. How would you feel walking into a vampire’s castle and finding a shrine to killing humans?”

“Isn’t that just Dracula’s war room?” Trevor said.

“ _Trevor._ ” Lucian folded her arms. “There was a _child’s_ skull in that cabinet by the stairs. How do you think that made him feel?”

Trevor groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Okay, fine, I _get_ it,” he said.

“I could talk to him, if you like,” Lucian said. “Ask him to tone it down? I know there’s no love for your family but that doesn’t mean you should have to listen to that.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier, then?” Trevor said, frowning.

Lucian folded her arms uncomfortably. “I thought it was just more of your guys’ banter.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” Trevor said, and strode away.

Lucian was long and gangly and could nearly match his stride. “I’ll talk to him,” she said more firmly. “Hell, maybe I can even get an apology from him.”

Trevor snorted. “If you can do that, it’ll be your most impressive miracle yet.”

Lucian chuckled at that. “Not wrong. Though, speaking of miracles—do you think there’s any chrism down here?”

“Holy oil? Oh yeah, loads of the stuff,” Trevor said. “Why?”

“I _am_ a priest,” Lucian said, deadpan. “It’s to us like blood is to vampires.”

Despite himself, Trevor laughed. “No, but really.”

“I was thinking I could consecrate your throwing knives,” Lucian said, and Trevor looked over at her, suddenly interested. “If you’re going to face Dracula, you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“We,” Trevor said. “The three of us’ll protect you, but we’re going to need healing. It’s a big castle, and he’s got an army.”

Lucian swallowed and nodded. “I’ll do my best to stay out of your way, then,” she said a little faintly.

“Ah, just do what you did in Gresit—”

“And blow another hole in the ground?”

“Exactly.” Trevor stopped in front of a shelf, which was lined with an entire row of glass bottles of different holy oils, thankfully still in their original containers. Lucian selected a bottle, running through the ritual in her head.

“I’m also going to need incense,” she said. “And holy water, and I remember seeing a crucifix I could use back near the entrance, which is good, because I also need my vestments—”

Trevor sighed. “Why can it never be as easy as making the sign of the cross over it?” he muttered. “Fine, we’ll split up. There’s a well somewhere around here, I’ll get you your water and incense.”

“And salt,” Lucian added, looking up at the catwalks that ran around the upper levels for a point of reference. “Meet up at the lectern?”

Trevor nodded, and disappeared deeper into the hold.


	8. Chapter 8

It really was remarkable how huge the place was, Lucian thought when she finally reached the lectern. She dug into the bag she’d set against one of the shelves and pulled the vestments over her head, sending up a silent prayer of thanks she’d thought to take them with her. 

She took a moment to orient herself—Sypha and Alucard had disappeared into the maze of shelves—and spotted the shelf she was certain had the crucifix. She hurried over to it and crouched, grinning when she saw it sitting on the lower shelf. She set the bottle of chrism aside and went to retrieve the crucifix.

“You’re a gaudy thing, aren’t you?” she muttered as she picked it up. Judging by the weight, the piece was made of solid gold, and had a jewel-studded halo surrounding the crossbar.

“I hope you mean the cross and not me.”

Lucian screamed and nearly dropped it. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she scolded, whirling to look at Alucard, who just gave her the smuggest smirk she’d seen from him yet.

“I will make no such promises,” he said. His arms were wrapped around an enormous stack of books, and Lucian got a look at some of the titles. _Deo Ac Veritae_ ; _Dies Irae_ ; ΙΧΘΥΣ; _Dulce Bellum Inexpertis_ ; _ἀπὸ μηχανῆς Θεός_ ; _Δεῖμος καὶ Φόβος_. The rest were written in languages she couldn’t even begin to identify.

“Those are some cheerful titles,” she said, nodding at the stack.

Alucard looked startled for a moment, but then he nodded. “Ah, yes. Of course you would know Latin.”

“And Greek,” Lucian said. “Though not nearly as well. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Sypha and I have discovered a distance mirror,” Alucard said, shifting the books to one hand and keeping them perfectly stacked like he wasn’t carrying fifty pounds of parchment and leather balanced on his palm.

Lucian’s eyes went huge. “Viewing or transmission?”

“Viewing, I believe. She is currently trying to repair it; if we can get it working—”

“We could find out where the castle is!” Lucian beamed. “That’s brilliant!”

Alucard smiled at that, very faintly. “Were your attempts to find a weapon unsuccessful?” he asked. “I’m surprised; I would have thought the Belmonts would keep a whole armoury down here. And possibly masturbate to it at night.”

“No, I did get a—can I talk to you?”

Alucard considered her. “Is that not what we are doing?”

“No, it’s not—it’s about Trevor. And you saying stuff like that.”

Alucard’s expression shuttered. “Don’t tell me the little vampire-killer had his feelings hurt.”

“Actually, yeah,” Lucian said. “You’ve kind of been mocking his dead family, who he still misses very much, all night.”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Alucard said flatly. “You saw those skulls in the cabinet; there’s no telling how many others _didn’t_ get their heads cut off and stuffed into a glass case to show it off.”

“I told him I thought you were scared,” Lucian said, watching him carefully, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes widened. _Aha._ “And that you were hiding it by taking it out on him. A-am I wrong?”

Alucard was silent for a moment before he set the books down and sat on the floor beside them; Lucian set down the crucifix and joined him, both of them sprawling out and taking up much more space than necessary.

“I will confess to feeling uncomfortable,” Alucard said. “And… sad.”

“Angry, too?” Lucian said, and he nodded once. “I know it’s not easy being down here, but imagine if, finding out your mother was Dracula’s wife, he started insulting her?”

Alucard’s fists clenched. “It’s not the same thing,” he said. “My mother wanted nothing more than to help people. The Belmonts murdered _children_.”

Lucian tilted her head, not about to argue that point. “But they _were_ his family,” she said. “And we don’t know that wasn’t one of his ancestors and not somebody he knew. He’s hurting right now and honestly, from what I’ve seen of him? He’s been holding his temper back. A lot.” She paused and said, “Honestly, if it were me, I’d have punched you by the time we got to the bottom of the staircase.”

“I would like to see you try,” Alucard said.

“ _Alucard_.”

He sighed. He turned his head away from her, golden hair falling over his shoulder to obscure his face. Lucian was struck with the sudden urge to touch it. 

“You’re allowed to be upset, being here,” she said, playing with the sleeve of her vestments instead. “I’m not gonna say you’re wrong for that. But do you think you could lay off insulting Trevor’s family and go back to calling him a… I don’t know, a stinky trash man or whatever?”

Alucard snorted, and then laughed, and Lucian tentatively laughed too.

“Your insults are _terrible_ , Enache,” he said. He picked up his books and stood, dusting off his coat. Lucian stood as well and retrieved the crucifix and chrism. Alucard nodded at her hands. “Got something planned for those?”

“I was going to consecrate Trevor’s knives for him,” she said. “He’s off getting the other things.” She paused, and tentatively added, “He found some new weapons by the way—both used to belong to Leon. I told him to tone it down if he wants to show them off to you, but…”

Alucard sighed. “Well, if nothing else, it will be good to have a warning of that,” he said. He glanced sidelong at Lucian. “I am _not_ going to give him an apology, you know.”

“I kind of figured,” she said dryly. “I wasn’t asking for one, and I know he’s certainly not expecting one, either.”

“ _Good_ ,” Alucard said.

Lucian smiled, hugging the holy items to her chest. “I’ll admit, I do worry about you two, but it’s gotten kind of fun to listen to you laughing at each other’s insults.”

Alucard just scoffed quietly at that. 

They emerged from within the shelves and found Trevor waiting at the lectern, a bucket of water at his feet, incense in one hand and salt in the other. His hair looked damp, and he smelled significantly better, though he still looked rather disheveled.

“Belmont,” Alucard said coolly.

“ _Alucard_ ,” Trevor said, his jaw setting.

Lucian saw a single golden eye slowly look sidelong at her, and she subtly jerked her head at Trevor, raising her eyebrows.

“It seems some of my earlier comments were harsher than you deserved,” Alucard said, sounding like he’d swallowed a lemon. “I will… refrain from making them in the future.”

Trevor glanced at Lucian, who pursed her lips impatiently and nodded back at Alucard, silently urging him to respond.

Sypha was right, these two really _were_ children.

“It’s appreciated,” Trevor finally said. “Once we’ve got what we need from here, we’ll go. Sound good? Or do you want to criticise that, too?”

_Christ, why couldn’t they just—?_

“The sooner we leave, the better,” Alucard said, shifting the books in his grip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have _actually_ important work to do.” He disappeared among the shelves again, as silent as he always was. 

Trevor stared after him for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you said to him,” he said, “but that was probably the closest thing to an apology I’ve heard come out of his fanged mouth.”

Lucian spread her hands, holy oil in one and a very heavy crucifix in the other. “Miracle-worker, remember?” she said.

Trevor jabbed a finger at her. “Only if it was an _actual_ apology,” he said. “That one didn’t count.”

“Fine, fine,” Lucian said. She nodded at the things he had gathered around the base of the lectern. “Thank you for these.”

“Hey, they’re my knives,” Trevor said. “Where do you want to do this?”

“Here’s fine, honestly,” Lucian said. “It’s going to take a while—you could go find Sypha? Alucard said they found a magic mirror and are trying to get it working again. Maybe you could help.”

Trevor frowned. “I told you, I don’t do the magic thing,” he said. “I’ve never actually seen a magic mirror down here before, either—”

“Can you _please_ let me work in peace?” Lucian said curtly.

Trevor shrugged and set down the salt and incense next to the water before voiding himself of his knives, including the one in his boot. “Hope you don’t blow another hole in the floor,” he said. “I rather like those knives.”

“They’re good knives,” Lucian agreed, setting the chrism and crucifix down as well and beginning to arrange everything. She glanced up when she heard Trevor leave and finally let out a sigh of relief. 

_Alone at last._

She held her hands out over the knives and began to chant.

* * *

He found Sypha examining the mirror, comparing the runes etched around the frame to a thick tome in her hands.

“I’ve been informed you’ve found a magic mirror,” he said, leaning against a shelf and folding his arms.

“Well, we found it,” Sypha said happily.

“...We,” Trevor said flatly.

“Yes,” Sypha said. She didn’t deign to look at him, still bent over her book. “Alucard has been quite helpful to me. He identified this as a remote viewing mirror and I’ve been studying the ruined glyphs since.”

“You think we could find Dracula’s castle with it,” Trevor said, his eyebrows flying up. “That’s… incredible.”

“Thank you,” Sypha said, smiling proudly. “I know I am.”

Trevor huffed out a laugh. “Yes,” he agreed softly. “You really are.”

Sypha glanced over her shoulder at him. “You seem like you’re in better spirits than before.” She paused, and added, “And you _smell_ better, too.”

“There was a well,” Trevor growled. “I washed up like I promised. Happy now?”

“Very,” Sypha said, and sent a quick gust of wind over her shoulder at him. 

He patted his now-dry hair and sighed. “Is there a point to all this?”

“Mm, no point in particular,” Sypha said. “But if you knew how this mirror worked, that would speed things up immensely.”

Trevor snorted. “I wish,” he said. “I had no idea this thing was down here. Not like I’d know how to work it if I did,” he added.

Sypha sighed and marked her spot in the book before setting it aside and moving to stand next to him. “Don’t tell me you’re _moping,_ ” she said.

“I don’t mope,” Trevor said automatically. “I _sulk._ ”

Sypha had to fight back a smile. “Okay then, don’t let me keep you from your _sulking_ while I get on with important mirror duties,” she said. She didn’t move away, though, and when Trevor didn’t so much as blink, she sighed in frustration. “Is this about Alucard?” she asked, crossing her arms. “You are a _grown-up_ , Trevor, you should—”

“He apologised,” Trevor said, keeping his head turned away from her.

Sypha blinked, not quite sure she’d heard that right. “He—what?”

“Well, for a certain definition of apology, anyway,” Trevor said. “More like said he wouldn’t do it again. Which is fortunate for him, really, because I was ready to stuff him down that well and not let him up.”

“ _Trevor_ ,” Sypha chided.

“What?” Trevor said. “He was being a cockwart.”

“He is our _ally_ ,” Sypha reminded him. “He would be of no use to us against Dracula if you stuffed him down a well.”

“Maybe he could annoy Daddy Dearest to death,” Trevor said, crossing his arms.

Sypha swatted his arm and he laughed.

“I take it you never found the wine,” Sypha said, and Trevor sighed.

“I did,” he said. “Realised it was getting late and decided I had better things to do.”

“Like what?” 

“Well,” Trevor said, shifting slightly. “Like talking to you.”

Sypha quickly turned her head away, feeling heat suddenly rise to her cheeks. “I _do_ have important work to be doing,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“How do you know talking to you _wasn’t_ about the work?” Trevor asked, sitting down with his back against the shelf. 

Sypha sat next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Somehow, I get the feeling it wasn’t,” she said. Now that he’d cleaned up, he actually didn’t smell so bad. A bit more like someone who’d spent a day in the forest and came back smelling like nature, rather than a week’s worth of sweat, grime, urine, and stale beer.

Trevor chuckled softly and she felt him shift again, and she realised he wanted to put an arm around her but was hesitating. She leaned into him, and his hand settled on her shoulder.

“Trevor isn’t a Wallachian name either,” Sypha murmured. “I’ve been thinking about that all evening.”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” Trevor asked, and the note of amusement in his voice did not go unnoticed by her.

“About your _name_ ,” she corrected. “It doesn’t sound French like Belmont does.”

Trevor sighed. “Well, the story goes that when Leon came to Wallachia, he was accompanied by a Celt—Tre _for_ , with an F. I was named after him.”

“Trefor,” Sypha mused, rolling the name on her tongue. She loved the way certain names felt to pronounce; Sypha was short and elegant, Lucian had a sharp hiss in the middle, and Alucard was just _fun_ to say. Names were important; after all, the Speakers said them a lot when telling their stories. 

And yes, she’d been thinking about Trevor’s name while she worked on the mirror problem. She was distracted, silently composing the tale of their fight against Dracula so far in her head. 

Trevor was right to take a break. She was exhausted.

“Trevor. Trefor. Tref. Treffie?” Sypha said, and Trevor shook against her with silent laughter.

“No, don’t, that sounds _awful_ ,” he said.

“You are Treffie now,” Sypha said, grinning up at him.

“Oh my god, no.”

Sypha laughed, brushing her hair out of her face. Trevor tried and failed to stifle his snickers and leaned his head against hers.

“My cloak’s big enough for two,” he said, and she glanced up at him to see a faint blush on his cheeks. “...If you’d like to share tonight.”

“That sounds nice,” Sypha murmured, and Trevor let go of her long enough to pull his cloak around her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book titles in order are: 
> 
> For God and Truth; Day of Wrath; Fish (An acronym in Greek for Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour); War is Sweet to the Inexperienced; God from the Machine; Horror and Fear.
> 
> So much research to write this hold. Dear lord.


	9. Chapter 9

Lucian could tell the ritual worked. When she held her hands out over the knives, she could feel the hum of holy energy. 

It was a relief; she wasn’t sure if she’d been formally excommunicated yet or not, but the fact she could do this to help Trevor, to help everybody in the fight against Dracula, brought her a small amount of comfort.

She had no idea where Trevor had disappeared to and it was getting late; she decided she’d rather not traipse through the library holding a bunch of knives looking for him, so she closed the index atop the lectern and set the knives next to the enormous book, knowing he’d see them when he came back.

As she was cleaning up, she sensed rather than heard Alucard coming up behind her. “Are you trying to sneak up on me again?”

“No,” he said, unimpressed. 

She replaced the glass stopper in the chrism bottle and stood up, hugging it like a child’s doll. “What do you want?”

Alucard tilted his head. “Just to speak to you.”

“Well, while we’re talking, could you help me tidy up?” Lucian asked. “I want to make sure everything gets back into place.”

Alucard picked up the crucifix, and in a flash of red he was gone, only to reappear in front of her a moment later.

Lucian realised she was staring and cleared her throat. “We can walk this one back together?” she said a little faintly, indicating the oil she was holding.

Alucard kept pace with her as they made their way through the shelves. “I was wondering if you would tell me what growing up in the church was like,” he said, and the bottle slipped in her fingers. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. 

“...Lonely,” she finally said. “I couldn’t get close to anyone else—I mean, you can hear how high my voice is when I’m speaking normally.”

“You still managed to get up to antics such as stealing the communion wine,” Alucard said, one of his eyebrows creeping up.

Lucian laughed softly. “That was more something all of the altar boys were doing that night,” she said. “They just invited me along.”

Alucard pursed his lips. “What was it like, daily?” he pressed.

Lucian found the rest of the holy oil and replaced the chrism, taking more time than needed to make sure the bottle was absolutely straight on the shelf. “Not that I mind, but why are you asking?”

“Curiosity,” Alucard said. “I grew up in a castle; I’m familiar with the world through books, and my parents’ stories, but I would like to hear it from someone else.”

“Trevor or Sypha would be better for that,” Lucian pointed out. “They grew up wandering from place to place; I’ve never been outside of Gresit before.”

Alucard tilted his head. “Not even outside the gates?”

“No,” Lucian said quietly. “I never had the time.”

Alucard hummed. “I think you know why I don’t want to ask Belmont,” he said, and Lucian huffed in amusement. “Sypha is asleep now, actually,” he added. “With her head in Belmont’s lap, as a matter of fact.”

_That_ got Lucian’s attention, and she struggled to keep a straight face, imaging Sypha’s head in _her_ lap.

Or maybe her own head in Trevor’s. 

Or Alu—

She cut that train of thought off before it could go any further. It was attachment issues, that was all; the first people she could even think of calling friends. Of _course_ she’d get her emotions confused.

“Fine,” she said, running her hand over a shelf full of books. She loved the feeling of the spines as her fingers bumped across them. “It’s hardly the most interesting, though.”

“It is when you’ve never heard it before,” Alucard said.

Lucian smiled faintly. “Well… when I was a child, my chores consisted of dusting and learning how to copy manuscripts. The cathedral had a lot of old books they wanted to preserve, and they got us to do it because it was so tedious.” Her fingers flexed at the memory of her hand cramping from long hours holding the brush, and her smile widened a little when she realised she would never have to do that again if she didn’t want to. 

“We had mass, five times a week,” she said. “Twice on Sundays. I was forbidden from incense duty after I fainted in the middle of an Easter service—the smoke was getting to me and I just collapsed in the middle of a reading. One of the other altar boys had to carry me to the back to recover.”

Alucard snorted before composing himself. “I’m sorry, I should not have laughed,” he said.

Lucian waved a hand. “Why not? It was funny.”

“The miracle-worker fainting in the middle of Easter service,” Alucard said, and laughed.

Lucian’s lips twitched, and then she began to laugh as well. “That just makes it even funnier,” she giggled. “Andrei—the altar boy who carried me back—said it was right after an ‘Amen’ and just like that I tipped sideways like a felled tree, and Bishop Florin just snapped his fingers at him without breaking the service.” She snickered again, realised tears of laughter were beading at the corners of her eyes, and she used her sleeve to dab them away.

Alucard was no longer laughing. “Did he not care about your well-being?” 

“The service had to keep going,” Lucian said, shrugging.

Alucard’s eyes narrowed. “What about after the service?”

Lucian froze. She had shoved that as far away to the back corners of her mind as she could, and for the most part it just blended into the background of other abuses she’d been subjected to, but Alucard’s question brought it rushing back.

“Bishop Florin came to check on me,” she said at long last.

Alucard gave her a long, hard look, but he didn’t ask. Lucian could _feel_ his gaze boring into her and her breath caught in her chest.

“He—he made me take off my shirt,” she whispered. “The priests had a willow switch they used on us when we misbehaved, or if we weren’t learning our lessons fast enough, or if they just wanted to, really.” 

She sucked in a deep breath but couldn’t seem to stop, rushing to get the words out. “He hit me until I bled, said I embarrassed him and the church. I—I was so young, I still didn’t know how to control my healing, it just h-happened when he tried to cast out whatever demon had possessed me, and—and he dragged me out to show to the other priests, claiming he’d miraculously healed me and—” She laughed bitterly. “And that by the grace of God and the bishop’s hand, my soul had been made pure again. And when that bastard died, you want to know what happened?”

Alucard had been watching her as she spoke, his face a mask to keep the rage from showing. At her question, he shook his head.

“He was named a _saint._ ” Lucian’s hands balled at her sides, shaking from how tightly clenched they were. “If there’s any justice in the world he’s burning in Hell right now.”

“How old were you?” Alucard’s voice was low.

“Ten.”

Alucard hissed through his teeth. “Did your mother know?”

“I’m sure she suspected,” Lucian said quietly. She stopped to examine a magnificent globe on a gold stand, and she gave it a small spin, watching it turn. “But I kept healing, so there was nothing for her to see.”

“You never told her?”

Lucian caught the globe to still it. “I was only permitted to see her once a month,” she said. “Why would I want to ruin the few chances I had to see her?”

Much as it pained him to admit, he could understand why she’d felt that way. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s reaction to finding out if something like that happened to him; knowing her, she would have marched up to the Cathedral, packed his things, and taken him away that very day.

...Which would have been a problem for her family’s living situation. She hadn’t grown up in a magic castle with parents who were around to dote on her.

His hand drifted to his chest, fingers splaying over the bit of scar exposed by the neck of his shirt. He kept wondering if he’d been a fool to think his father would listen to reason, but the Dracula he’d known growing up had been a stern but kind man. Alucard expected yelling, arguing, but never had it crossed his mind his own father would try to kill him.

His heart clenched.

Lucian noticed his hand, and she bit her lip. “Would you... like me to heal that?” she offered, tentatively gesturing at his chest.

Alucard glanced up at her, wondering what she must think. She’d seen his healing abilities on display down in the crypt, so was it pity that made her offer or curiosity?

“You can try,” he said, doubt creeping into his voice. Relic or no, she was inexperienced with her abilities, and whatever his father had done to him, the wound refused to fully heal. It might be too much for her to fix.

Lucian took this as permission, and she gently moved his hand out of the way before sliding her fingers just under the neck of his shirt to place her hand on the taut, shiny scar. Her fingers were surprisingly cool to the touch, and his breathing shuddered.

“Sorry,” Lucian said quickly, pulling her hand away. “Are you alright?”

Alucard caught her hand before it moved far. “It’s fine,” he said. “Please—continue.”

Lucian nodded, and he let go, forcing himself to stay still when she slipped her hand inside his shirt again. She closed her eyes, and Alucard felt a thrum of holy energy surround her, warm against his chest. His wound itched and tingled, and Lucian grit her teeth. 

The magic grew stronger, until sweat beaded on Lucian’s forehead and she was left gasping for air. Alucard’s eyes widened when he realised she would keep going until it was too much for her.

“Stop—” he began, when her knees buckled. He stooped to catch her before she could hit the floor.

She was conscious, but only barely. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, but didn’t open. “It didn’t work,” she whispered, disappointment colouring her voice.

“You shouldn’t have exerted yourself,” Alucard chastised her, and scooped her up into his arms, walking back to where he’d left Belmont and Sypha curled against a shelf. She could sleep with them while he continued to read.

“I’m sorry,” Lucian said, her voice barely audible. 

Alucard sighed. “Don’t be. I suppose it’s a good thing to have a reminder of what my father did to me, why I need to fight in this war.”

Lucian didn’t respond, and he glanced down at her. The furrow between her brows was smooth, her face relaxed in sleep. Her breathing was shallow, but even, and he shifted her weight in his arms, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She looked much more peaceful in sleep than he’d seen her awake; even when she was relaxed by the pipe, there was always a slight frown on her face, always thinking of something.

How was it fair that the man bent on destroying the world had given him a better childhood than his companions?

* * *

Trevor looked up when he turned the corner down the row of shelves, and the Belmont’s face twisted. “What did you _do?_ ” he hissed, but Alucard gently set Lucian down on his other side so as not to disturb Sypha.

“She attempted to heal me,” he said, sitting opposite Trevor, who glowered at him and shifted Lucian into a more comfortable position. “I tried to tell her to stop when I realised it was too much for her, but it wasn’t soon enough.”

Trevor sighed. “Of course she would,” he muttered, shooting a look at the part of Alucard’s chest exposed by his shirt. “I see it worked so well, too.”

Alucard propped an elbow on one knee, stretching his other leg out in front of him. “I wasn’t going to tell her no outright,” he said curtly. “She needs to learn her abilities if she’s going to be any help against my father.”

“Dracula,” Trevor said, and Alucard bared his fangs at him.

“We all know who I mean,” he hissed. “You don’t need to bring it up every time, _Belmont._ ”

Trevor just smirked at him, and Alucard desperately wanted to lunge across the aisle and smack him. Doing so would only wake the two women, though, and he settled for flipping him off.

“Where were you two, anyway?” Trevor asked, tucking a corner of Lucian’s cloak tighter around her.

“I was helping her clean up,” Alucard said, noting the gesture. Trevor might pretend not to care, but seeing him let his companions use him as a pillow, watching him make sure they weren’t uncomfortable, spoke volumes. “She finished consecrating your knives, by the way. They’re on the lectern. I suppose she figured you’d come looking.”

“Great,” Trevor said. “Obviously a little busy at the moment, but I’ll get them later.”

“Poor Belmont, with a woman on each arm,” Alucard sighed, rolling his eyes. 

Trevor just fixed him with a flat look. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Nope,” Alucard said, and rose smoothly.

“Choke on a bag of dicks,” Trevor said.

“Likewise,” Alucard said, and disappeared deeper into the library.


	10. Chapter 10

When Trevor drifted awake, Sypha was gone, but Lucian was still curled up against him. A thin strand of drool dripped from her mouth to puddle on his leg, and he sighed and gently shook her shoulder. “Hey—”

She shot bolt upright, looking around wildly and only relaxed when she saw it was him. “...Did I fall asleep on you?”

“The longcoat brigade carried you here when you passed out on him,” Trevor said. “ _That_ was stupid, pushing yourself like that.”

Lucian bit her lip. “I-I just thought, if I’m supposed to be this... living relic, then maybe I could—”

“I don’t _care_ if you’re some holy being with miraculous powers,” Trevor said, and poked her in the chest. “You still don’t know what the hell you’re doing, and pushing it is going to hurt the rest of us, not just you. Stop being stupid and take it _slow._ ”

Lucian’s eyes stung, but she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, ducking her head.

Trevor sighed. “Don’t be _sorry_ , just don’t do it again,” he said, and stood up. He offered her a hand, and when she took it, pulled her to her feet. “Here,” he added, tossing her a strip of cured ham he’d found in the larder and saved for later. “Sypha and Alucard are still trying to fix that mirror. Figured while they worked on that, I could help you with that spear of yours.”

Lucian bit off a piece of meat and grinned. “I really appreciate it, you know,” she said. “The training, I mean.”

Trevor grunted. “Can’t have you getting killed if something slips past the three of us, right?”

“I thought you said the three of you could take care of me?” Lucian asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Lots of stuff happens in a fight,” Trevor said, shrugging. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

Lucian tore off another bite, gnawing while she thought. “You said this place could hold up to a siege,” she said. “Do you think Dracula’s going to track us down here?”

“Don’t know,” Trevor said. “I don’t _think_ he knows I’m alive, considering how many other people believe all the Belmonts to be dead.”

“...But is there a possibility?” Lucian pressed, and she didn’t like how Trevor fell silent, looking down at the ground in thought.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I wouldn’t put it past him to be keeping an eye on the Belmonts; my family has been fighting him for centuries, it makes sense he would want to keep tabs on us.”

Lucian swallowed. “Maybe he’s been distracted with this war on humans?”

Trevor frowned. “Maybe,” he said. “I wouldn’t bet on it, though.” He jerked his head. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

“Is it even day yet?” Lucian muttered, but followed him to the wider space where the lectern was. 

Trevor scooped up his throwing knives and re-sheathed them, nodding at her. “Thanks for this, by the way,” he said. “You would not believe how hard it is to find a priest who could do that.”

“I think I have an idea,” Lucian said, grimacing.

Trevor inclined his head, and drew his sword, motioning for her to do the same. Lucian pulled her weapon from her belt, and with a thought, the spear expanded to its full length.

“Ready?” Trevor asked, and she nodded. “Right—let’s go.”

* * *

Hours passed. Occasionally, Sypha or Alucard would flit past, books in hand while they chased down the next in a series of references. Trevor kept Lucian working until she was drenched with sweat, and they paused briefly to draw more water from the well (and bring a bucket up for the horses, too). Back down to the open space, and they resumed once more.

Lucian was improving, enough he was confident that if something slipped past him or the others she could defend herself long enough to let one of them come to her rescue. Just another reason he’d suggested the spear for her; it didn’t take a competent fighter to use one effectively.

_Mastery_ of one was another matter entirely, but that would come with time.

He called for a break when he noticed her movements were beginning to tire, and they stopped to take turns drinking from the bucket of non-holy water he’d drawn from the well.

“How’m I doing?” Lucian asked, passing the bucket back to him.

Trevor tipped it back, taking a long drink while he considered his answer.

“Fine,” he finally responded, setting it down between them. “Definitely better than yesterday, but that doesn’t mean you can go running in trying to be a hero, alright?”

“I won’t,” Lucian said, and he fixed her with a look. “I _won’t_ ,” she repeated stubbornly. “You and Sypha have said it enough, okay?”

Trevor nodded and dipped his hand into the bucket, wiping his face down with the cool water. 

“Look,” Lucian said, drawing her knees loosely to her chest. “I know I’m a slow learner, but I’m not _stupid._ It just takes me a while to—”

Trevor looked at her, baffled. “You’re not slow,” he said. “The hell makes you say that? You’re just new at this. You’re a lot faster than I thought you’d be, actually.”

Lucian’s cheeks pinked and she ducked her head. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Just don’t let it go to your head, alright?” Trevor said, grinning. “Can’t let Baby Jesus think she’s ready for combat yet.”

“Trevor!” Sypha’s voice came from above, and both their heads shot up to look at her leaning over the balcony railing a floor above them. 

“What?” he called back. 

“I have something!” Sypha said excitedly, waving a book over her head.

Trevor used his sleeve to dry his face. “When I say ‘what’, that doesn’t mean ‘I would like to ask even more questions’.”

“Would you please—” Sypha began. “Ugh, you are the most annoying—just stop!”

Trevor and Lucian glanced at each other.

“I’m coming up,” Trevor sighed, and climbed to his feet. 

Lucian trailed after him, tilting her head to look up at Sypha on the balcony. 

“I think I’ve found a locking spell,” Sypha said excitedly. “Wait, listen—the Belmonts have an entire literature here about the castle. They tried for centuries to eliminate its main advantage—transporting itself through magical means.”

“Right,” Trevor said, making his way up the stairs. “So you can’t attack it if it just jumps somewhere else.”

“So this locking spell is supposed to... lock it into place?” Lucian asked as she climbed after him. “Which means if you can get that mirror working—!”

“I could lock the castle to a single location!” Sypha said triumphantly. “I’ve got most of the spell here, but I can finish the final clauses of it myself!”

“How long will that take?” Alucard said, leaning over the railing a level above her.

“I don’t know,” Sypha said, flipping through the pages. “It’s all based on Adamical structures—I’m familiar with the language, but it would take me some time.”

Alucard dropped down, landing lightly next to her. “You keep saying that word,” he said.

“Adamic is the original human language,” Sypha said. “The one spoken by Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden—the one that was split into all other languages at the Tower of Babel by God to prevent human cooperation.”

Alucard crossed his arms. “Is that how you understand the story?” he asked, glancing sidelong at Lucian. She didn’t seem upset; rather, she was watching Sypha with her head tilted curiously.

“Oh, yes,” Sypha said, totally unconcerned. “The Speakers are the enemy of God; we live in cooperation and hide our stories inside ourselves so he cannot strike them down in jealousy.”

_BOOM._

Dust trickled down from the ceiling and they all tilted their heads back to look. Another thunderous _BANG_ rumbled through the library, and the chains supporting the giant skeleton below rattled from the force.

“See?” Sypha said, gesturing at the ceiling. “God hates me!”

The floor beneath their feet shook with each successive bang. 

Alucard slowly raised his eyes towards the ceiling. “That’s... probably not God.”

* * *

They regrouped by the lectern; Lucian flinched at each bang, and Trevor had to bite back several choice words. He turned to Sypha instead. “Can you get that magic mirror working?” he said urgently. 

“I think so,” Sypha said. Alucard disappeared in a flash of red and returned, carefully setting the mirror down by the lectern. “But I can’t do two things at once, here!”

“I know some Chaldaic,” Alucard said. “And I know how to operate a distance mirror. Which should I do?”

Trevor realised Alucard was looking to him, and he balked. “Um, well, I can’t do either of those things,” he said, stalling while he gathered his thoughts. He reached out to catch Lucian by the cloak when she ran off, but she unfastened the clasps and slipped out of it, leaving him holding just the cloak and feeling very stupid.

“Come _on_ , Belmont,” Alucard said, stalking toward him. “Time to choose. You’re either the last son of a warrior dynasty, or a lucky drunk. _Which is it?_ ”

The next _BANG_ echoed loudly enough in the hold Trevor felt it rumble in his chest. He looked after Lucian, long disappeared among the shelves, and sighed.

“Okay,” he said. “Get the mirror working, Alucard. Give me force numbers, species, and weapons count. Sypha stays on her job for now. I’ll fortify the point of entry.” His eyes strayed to Alucard, watching the dhampir pull one of his gloves off with his teeth, a single fingernail elongating into a razor-sharp talon as he began carving the runes back into the mirror’s frame.

Almost like Alucard could sense his eyes on him, he turned back to Trevor. “I think we’re going to see the size and disposition of the attacking force fairly quickly with our own eyes, Belmont.”

Trevor glanced up at the ceiling when another _BANG_ shook the hold. “I’m forced to agree. Do you have a further suggestion?”

“Are you asking my advice?” Alucard scoffed.

Trevor’s jaw set. “We’re working together, Alucard,” he said, stalking forward. “You’re still a bastard, but you’re the bastard I chose to fight alongside back in Gresit. Do you have a problem with any of that?”

Alucard turned to him, and for a moment Trevor thoroughly expected to be punched across the room. 

But then Alucard smiled, a soft smile that made his eyes crinkle gently and his mouth curl upwards in a gorgeous curve. “None at all,” he said, and Trevor was suddenly very aware of how close they were to each other.

“So what do you suggest?” he said, spreading his hands.

Alucard turned back to the mirror. “Using this to find Dracula’s castle, _now._ ” Another thunderous rumble that shook debris from the ceiling. “We’re trapped in a box down here. We will eventually be overwhelmed, unless we change the nature of the battle.”

Trevor gripped the handle of the Morning Star, taking comfort in its weight. “Agreed. Sypha!” he called, looking over his shoulder for her.

“I’m close to getting it!” she called back. 

“I’ll protect you for as long as I can,” Trevor said, hoping he could follow through on that promise.

“ _We’ll_ protect you,” Lucian said. She emerged from the shelves, panting from the effort of hauling a pair of buckets full of water. “Holy water,” she said, passing one to Trevor and picking up the one from in front of the lectern. “I’m going to help.”

Trevor wanted to yell at her, to tell her to stay back and let him handle this, but with Sypha and Alucard occupied, he realised he was going to need all the help he could get—and judging from the stubborn set of Lucian’s jaw, he didn’t have time to argue with her.

“Stay behind me, then,” he said, and took a second bucket from her. He’d be able to carry them up the stairs more quickly.

They began the long climb to the top, leaving Sypha and Alucard to their work. 

“What’s the plan?” Lucian asked halfway up, sounding winded. Trevor glanced back at her. She was pink in the face but only a few steps behind him.

“Get to the top, barricade the door, fight them off when they get through,” he said.

Another thunderous _BANG_ , and Lucian stumbled sideways, the precious holy water slopping out of the top of the bucket and soaking her boots.

“That didn’t sound good,” she gasped.

“Let’s hurry,” Trevor said, redoubling his pace.

They reached the door that led to the massive circular staircase, and Trevor set the buckets down before running off in search of something to barricade it with.

“...I don’t think that’s going to work,” Lucian said faintly when he returned with a plank of wood, trying to brace it against the door. He shot her a look over his shoulder and sighed, tossing it aside.

“I never would have figured that out myself, _thank_ you,” he said, pushing the door open wider and walking through into the stairwell chamber. 

Lucian carried her bucket in after him and tipped it over, flooding the room with a thin layer of holy water. “That should keep them busy,” she said anxiously, looking up towards the top of the staircase. From the growls and hisses echoing down, it sounded like the night creatures had broken through the seal. “So much for holding out in a siege?”

Trevor just shot her a glower. “Stay down here,” he said, and sprinted for the stairs. “Get ready. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

Lucian expanded her spear as he raced up the steps, reaching for the Morning Star only to stumble halfway up as another tremor shook the hold. 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, shielding his eyes from the sudden dust and debris that came raining down on him.

A moment later, an enormous demon, easily fifteen feet tall with horns as big as he was came crashing through the catwalks with a roar. Trevor leapt out of the way as it demolished where he’d been standing a moment before, chain lashing out to wrap around a destroyed support beam. He swung around and drew his sword, chain unwinding to send him falling at the demon’s head.

The demon moved out of the way and his sword missed, but Trevor managed to use one of its horns to swing up onto the back of its neck and wrap his legs around it, holding on for dear life. He wrapped a corner of his waist sash around his hand as the demon roared, and caught the blade of his sword, sawing away at the beast’s neck. Blood sprayed out in a wide arc, and the demon thrashed, trying frantically to throw him off.

Down below, Lucian gasped as the demon’s blood rained down around her. What hit the puddle of holy water incinerated upon touching it, but occasionally hot, fat droplets landed on her head and shoulders. She shielded her face even as she tried to get an idea of what was going on above her, only to duck her head when another spray of blood nearly hit her in the eye. 

Whatever Trevor was doing, it seemed to be working.

She screamed when Trevor came slamming down to the ground beside her, the demon crashing through the catwalk above. It let out a horrific shriek and staggered when its hooves touched the holy water, which bought Lucian enough time to sprint across to Trevor, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Thanks,” Trevor grunted, climbing to his feet. He ran forward and caught Leon’s sword— _his_ sword—when it fell from the monster’s neck, leaping over its arm to slash its leg. The monster roared and swiped at Lucian in its dying throes, who got out of the way just in time before a claw cut through the air where she’d been standing.

It was dead before it hit the floor, blood gushing from the gigantic cut on its neck and burning away in the holy water.

They never got the chance to celebrate. A blood-curdling scream from above made them look up, and a horned demon with bandages wrapped around its eyes fell from the broken catwalks, spear aimed right at Trevor. Three more quickly followed in its wake, screeching loudly enough to wake the dead. 

Trevor dodged out of the way as the demon with the spear hit the ground, hissing when its feet began to burn. 

“More water!” he yelled, parrying a blow and hoping Lucian would listen. 

She did, ducking out of the room to return hauling another bucket. She threw it at the demon, and it began thrashing, its skin blistering. Trevor slid under its spear and ripped upwards with his sword, effectively severing the thing in two at the waist. It fell backwards and collapsed against the body of its brethren, even as the other three descended on them. 

“Watch out!” Lucian yelled, pointing up at one of the demons as its chest glowed, fire building inside it.

“Firedrake,” Trevor grunted. “Just what I need in an underground hold full of paper.” His hand shot forward, the Morning Star’s chain unfurling to strike the firedrake in its glowing chest.

The world went white. Searing heat blasted down from where the drake exploded, and evaporated the holy water on the floor. Lucian and Trevor were sent flying through the door, knocking over the third bucket of water so it spilled over the edge of the balcony.

Lucian lay groaning on the floor, even as Trevor sat up, barely winded. “Probably just as well I didn’t get to play with the whip when I was a kid,” he grunted.

“That was definitely nothing like the other one’s explosions,” Lucian gasped, clapping a hand to her chest to heal herself.

The sound of beating wings from the main room made Trevor stumble to his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough to get to the whip in time when a birdlike demon struck from the shadows, cracking him against the balcony. 

It suddenly went stiff and it screeched, shuddering. Trevor ducked out of the way as the demon swelled and exploded in a cloud of feathers to reveal a triumphant Lucian, her spear still raised from where she’d impaled it through the back.

“Lucian!” Trevor yelled when the batlike demon leapt at her back, knocking her to the floor. Trevor lunged, driving the demon away from her with his shoulder. His sword plunged into its side and it screamed, twitching several times before it went still. 

He hurried back to Lucian, who was struggling into a crouch, winded but otherwise unhurt. He caught her around the waist and helped her to her feet, feeling her trembling against his side.

“This is why I keep telling you to be careful,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in it. He held her gently, and Lucian hugged him back. “You’re not ready to fight yet.”

“I did pretty okay, didn’t I?” Lucian said, her teeth chattering.

“Yeah,” Trevor said, rubbing her back. He pulled away, trying not to think how close she’d just come to getting killed. “You did okay.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you thought the wish fulfilment was bad enough.

Trevor and Lucian hurried down the stairs, the crackle of magic racing through the air like lightning. They stopped dead when they saw Sypha standing in front of the mirror, Alucard bracing it so it wouldn’t fall over. White bolts of electricity surrounded Sypha, whose robes whipped around her as she strained against the spell.

“What the...?” Lucian gasped, lifting her arm to shield against the brightness. 

There was an awful sound of cracking, splintering glass, and then everything was still save for the dust trickling from the ceiling.

Sypha slowly lowered her hands, and laughed disbelievingly. “Hah!” she said. “I did it!”

“You locked the castle?” Lucian asked in amazement. “Where is it?”

“Right on top of us,” Sypha said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Trevor felt himself age ten years in the span of a second. “You did _what?_ ”

Sypha considered for a second, and then understanding dawned on her face. “I... landed it on the surface, right above this underground space that’s probably only held up by wood and dirt.” A pause. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Up in the ruined stairwell, Trevor kicked at the giant demon’s leg before tilting his head back to stare at the open sky. “The staircase is a wreck,” he said. “We’re not getting up there without ropes—start looking.” Another long look at the sky. “...Damn. This is gonna be hard. Don’t suppose you could miracle us up there?” he added sarcastically, glancing at Lucian. She made a face at him.

Sypha made a broad, sweeping gesture with her arms, and a disc of ice formed under their feet. Lucian immediately crowded closer to the centre.

“We don’t need ropes,” Sypha said, and thrust her hands together. “Here we go.”

There was a gentle rumble beneath their feet, and the ice began to expand upward in a massive column, reaching for the opening of the hold.

Trevor turned around as the column rose, staring at the portrait of Leon. The column rose higher, but he kept his eyes on the portrait for as long as he could. _Would you be proud of me?_ he thought. _Would you even be proud if you could see what the Belmont name was reduced to? A single man, dragged kicking and screaming into the fight?_

He was forced to come to the conclusion that Leon Belmont would not. A wandering drunk for fourteen years was hardly worthy of living up to the name, even if he somehow managed to redeem himself by killing Dracula.

They rose from the hold into a blood-red night. The moon overhead was bright and full and coloured crimson, casting an eerie pallor over the forest.

“That’s the castle?” Lucian whispered as it came into view. 

Alucard nodded, a single jerky movement. He didn’t seem to want to speak.

“It’s... huge.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen too many castles before,” Trevor said dryly, trying not to think of the enormity of what they were about to do.

“Gresit was a little short on them, yes,” Lucian said. Her teeth chattered, and she stuck a knuckle in her mouth, biting down.

He didn’t blame her. He was terrified, too.

“I’m pretty good, aren’t I?” Sypha said, looking as pleased as she had every right to be, and Trevor felt warmth spread through his chest.

“You’re the best,” Trevor said, and when Sypha smiled at him, he felt braver.

They reached ground level and stepped off the ice; Sypha gestured broadly, and the column of ice flew into the air to crash down somewhere deep in the forest.

Trevor stared.

Sypha noticed, and held out her arms defensively. “I didn’t want to leave it in there to melt and ruin all your beautiful books.” 

“Well, it seems damp enough out here as it is,” Alucard said, lifting a foot out of a shallow puddle of water. 

Lucian frowned, crouching down. She could feel the thrum of energy beneath their feet. “...Holy water?” she murmured in confusion.

“What’s holy water doing tagging along with Dracula’s castle?” Trevor said, looking up at the many towers and spires.

“I don’t know,” Alucard said, his eyes fixed on the castle. “But it can only be good for us; we may not be facing as many of my father’s soldiers as we anticipated.”

Lucian put a hand on his shoulder, and for once, he didn’t pull away, though he didn’t acknowledge her presence, either.

“Alucard,” Trevor said softly, and the dhampir looked over at him. “Are you ready for this?”

There was a long pause, and then Alucard sighed. “No. But let’s put an end to this anyway.” He gripped the hilt of his sword and started forward, the other three falling into step behind him.

_It is not the dying that frightens us,_ the Elder had said to Trevor. _It’s living without ever having done our best._

Hard to believe scarcely four days had passed since then. It seemed so much longer ago than that.

They reached the doors, and Alucard threw them open.

The vampires inside, in the middle of fighting each other, froze. 

Trevor spoke into the silence, knowing the vampires would hear and not particularly caring. “I terrify them, Sypha disorients them, Alucard goes over the top and we support him. Lucian stays back and provides aid if it’s needed.”

Sypha lifted her hands, determination on her face. “Yes!”

“ _Deo volente_ ,” Lucian murmured, and expanded her spear.

Alucard merely unsheathed his blade. “Begin.”

They charged.

The vampires who had just a moment before been enemies turned to face them as one, racing to meet them head-on. The Morning Star caught one in a direct hit, causing him to swell and explode, sending several other vampires flying.

A wall of fire sprung up in front of his feet, and Trevor took a half-step back, looking around to see Sypha working her magic. 

Alucard darted past, little more than a flash of gold as he leapt through the flames. Trevor’s eyebrows went up when he saw the dhampir transform into a great white wolf and race through the guards to tear out the throat of one of the soldiers.

Lucian felt an odd sort of peace overcome her and she walked forward. 

“What are you—?” Trevor began, lunging to grab her before she disappeared into the flames. His fingers caught the hem of her sleeve and it slipped through them as she stepped into the fire.

She emerged on the other side unharmed, arms raised. 

“ _Fiat lux_ ,” she whispered, and a blinding radiance burst out from her, incinerating several of the guards where they stood while the rest sprinted for safety. Weapons and empty armour fell to the floor with a ring of metal on stone, and the fire died down behind her as Trevor ran forward, icicles flying in his wake.

“I said to stay behind us!” Trevor yelled, the Morning Star striking another vampire in the chest. It swelled and exploded, and he yanked the chain back to him. “...Do that again!”

Lucian blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and whirled just in time to thrust her spear at a vampire to keep it at bay before it could impale her. One of Sypha’s icicles pierced its skull and Lucian took the moment to reply.

“I don’t know if I can!”

“Well, keep trying!” Trevor called back, and she found herself shoulder to shoulder with him, fighting against a vampire wielding a wicked-looking spear. Lucian had no idea how she was supposed to defend against that—Trevor had only practiced her against his sword—so she stayed out of his reach as much as she could, harrying him as a distraction until the Morning Star’s chain wrapped around his arms and legs. She lunged, and her spear sank into his chest, causing him to swell and explode.

“Nice one,” Trevor said, re-coiling the chain, and then he was off into the fray again.

Lucian found herself face-to-face with a pair of guards.

She lifted her hand towards them, and they froze before turning and fleeing, only to meet the blade of Alucard’s sword.

Lucian bit back a sigh of relief, glad her bluff had worked. She didn’t think she could pull that off again twice in the same day.

Alucard stood among the bodies of fallen foes, oblivious to the congealing vapour behind him.

“ALUCARD!” Lucian cried, but then Sypha was there, freezing the vampire before she could take solid form and shattering her with nary a second thought. 

Trevor rushed forward, and another gesture from Sypha launched him into the air off a block of ice toward the remaining vampires near the ceiling. Alucard flew into the air with him, and Lucian had what was probably the most insane idea of her life.

What was walking on water, if not one step from walking on air?

Lucian lifted one foot. Then the other. She began to run, and sprinted upwards into open air, feet slamming down on nothing solid, climbing higher into the arched recesses of the flying buttresses. She raced towards the vampires floating high above the ground, thinking they were safe from Trevor’s whip.

The Morning Star trapped one that dared come a little too close, and the other turned to deflect her spear strike. She stared at Lucian in shock, giving Alucard the chance to impale the vampire from behind before she could attack. Lucian whirled to see Trevor swing down, yanking his captive vampire to the floor after him for Sypha to run up and blast the vamp in the face, reducing him to a charred shell.

Sypha walked away, leaving the smoldering corpse behind her.

“Would have been nice to know you could do that before,” Trevor called up to Lucian as she carefully stepped her way down invisible stairs, not entirely sure where to place her feet but giving it her best approximation.

“Would have been nice if I’d known, too,” she said, sighing with relief when she felt her feet touch solid ground. 

There was no time to celebrate; a harsh screeching from the grand staircase above left them looking upwards at the demons emerging from the shadows, ready to attack the invaders.

They looked at each other, and Trevor sighed.

“Try not to die, will you?” he said, and Lucian sprinted off, running across the air over the heads of the demons at the top of the staircase. She impaled the one in the front before ripping her weapon free from its skull and retreating, circling back for another attack while Trevor and Sypha and Alucard picked out their own opponents. 

Trevor had been right to choose a spear for her. The longer reach of the weapon kept her far away from the demons’ claws, and she laughed, almost manically, as she ran circles around their heads, spear jabbing down over and over to distract them long enough for Sypha and Trevor to rush up the stairs and finish them off.

She turned to look where Alucard was, only to see his hand extended towards an open staircase above, sword impaled through a body slumped over the railing.

“ _Forgemaster,_ ” Alucard hissed, and Lucian sprinted upwards through the air, alighting on the spiral staircase as she collapsed her spear to dagger length, ignoring Trevor’s shout to come back. She ran up the stairs, heart in her mouth, and she hoped desperately she wasn’t running to her death.

A bald, dark-skinned man slashed at her with a wicked-looking knife when she turned around another spiral, and she leapt back with a yelp, staggering against the tower wall.

There was an unholy stench on him, on his weapon, on every step he’d touched, and she knew if she’d dared challenge him she would have ended up impaled upon his blade, twisted into some monstrous version of herself. He didn’t press the attack, choosing instead to turn and run, and Lucian stared after him in dismay.

She wasn’t skilled enough to fight him, wasn’t strong enough, and she let him go, hating herself with every fibre of her being.

“Guys?” she yelled down the staircase. “He’s getting away!”

Alucard flew up to meet her, landing beside her on the stairs, He recalled his sword to his hand and sprinted upwards. “Wait for the others,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

Lucian heard a soft whine, and realised it was coming from her. She danced on the spot, turning around when she heard Trevor and Sypha come running up the stairs, and she ran with them. They continued up, up, following Alucard and the stench of death.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter one, but the next one's a doozy.
> 
> Here we go.

Alucard stood in the doorway of his father’s study, heart in his throat and blade in his hand. He stared him down—his father, the man who raised him, who cooled his brow when he’d been sick and cleaned up scabbed knees when he fell.

“Father,” he said softly.

“Son.” Dracula’s face was impassive, his expression unreadable. There was no hint of the warmth Alucard was used to, no familiar smile nor beckon for an embrace.

It was like staring down a stranger.

“Your war is over,” Alucard said, his voice still low. 

His father— _Dracula_ —tilted his head, eyes blazing crimson. “Because you say so?”

“It ends...” Alucard’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “...in the name of my mother.”

Dracula’s face contorted. “It _endures_ in the name of your mother.”

Alucard met his father’s gaze. “I told you before, I won’t let you do it.” He closed his eyes. “I grieve with you, but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“You couldn’t stop me before.” Dracula’s voice was low, menacing, and Alucard opened his eyes to see his father glowering down at him. Outside, he heard the footsteps of his friends, and he lifted his chin, ever so slightly.

“I was alone before,” Alucard said, relieved when Sypha, Trevor, and Lucian stepped into the room behind him, taking up their places on either side. 

Sypha lifted her hands; Trevor’s fingers clenched around the Morning Star’s handle. Lucian expanded her spear again and levelled it at Dracula, but she glanced at Alucard, waiting for his cue.

He raised his sword and lunged, driving his father backwards to slam into the wall only to realise his blade was caught between three of Dracula’s fingers like a mild inconvenience.

Dracula took a step forward, then another, Alucard straining against the immense pressure on his blade. He withdrew, pulling the sword back, and went to strike again only for Dracula to swat him aside like a doll. Alucard landed against the grille of the fireplace with a gasp, flames licking his cheeks as his face pressed against the glowing coals.

Trevor darted forward, and was slammed backward, through the doorway and against the wall hard enough to crack the stones. Dracula’s hand clenched around his throat momentarily before letting go, and Trevor fell to the floor, coughing up blood.

He shouldn’t have survived that. There was no way he could have humanly survived that. As it was, he trembled, arms braced against the floor, and he felt like his lungs were already collapsing.

“Cover me,” Lucian said, collapsing her spear, and Sypha ran towards Dracula, fire streaming from her fingers. Lucian ducked under Sypha’s arm, around Dracula, and grabbed Trevor, pulling the neck of his tunic aside. He was hurt, _bad_ , and skin-to-skin was the fastest way for her to heal him.

Her hand wormed down his chest to settle just over his heart, and she ignored the awful way he coughed weakly, blood splattering across her face. “I got you,” she murmured, and closed her eyes. 

Trevor’s flew back open and she knew she’d done her job, only to feel her heart clench in terror when Sypha yelled.

The Speaker landed on the floor down the hallway from them, bleeding and stunned. Lucian tried to run to Sypha, only for Dracula to catch her, talons piercing through her shoulder and fingers curling under her collarbone as she screamed.

“Little priest,” he said dismissively, and flung Lucian aside.

She landed against a column and her vision went white, pain taking over every nerve of her body. Lucian fell to the floor, numbly aware of the fact that she couldn’t feel her legs.

“SYPHA! LUCIAN!” Trevor yelled, and lunged at Dracula, pummelling him with his fists.

The vampire didn’t so much as flinch at his assault, turning to look at him with disdain. “Ah. You must be the Belmont.” 

A fist impacted Trevor’s stomach hard enough he nearly vomited, and Dracula caught him around the neck again, lifting him into the air. 

“The end of your line.” 

Trevor gripped Dracula’s arm, struggling to hold himself up even as he realised the vampire’s talons were about to drive into his chest and tear out his heart.

Alucard’s sword impaled both of Dracula’s arms in a single blow, and a bloody and battered Sypha took advantage of the moment to strike Dracula in the face with an enormous blast of fire.

But when the flames died down, he swatted Sypha aside like she was little more than a nuisance to him, and she landed against Lucian, head cracking on the floor. Another effortless gesture sent Alucard flying, and the dhampir ended up down the corridor, dazed.

The attacks forced Dracula to let go of Trevor’s throat, though, and he drew his sword and lunged, piercing Dracula’s side.

“Sypha,” Lucian gasped, her fingers searching out the Speaker only to encounter blood.

“I’m here,” Sypha said, and Lucian’s hand clamped down on her arm, blood seeping between her fingers.

The gashes slowly closed up, but _something_ about Dracula’s talons kept the scars from healing fully, and they remained oozing blood. Sypha jumped up to rejoin the battle, and Lucian fought through the pain long enough to heal herself, her spine twisting back into place—though the searing pain in her shoulder remained.

Lucian staggered upright just in time for Sypha and Trevor to be thrown into her, and the three of them landed in a heap on the floor. She lifted her head, eyes widening when she saw Dracula bring his clenched hands down on the back of Alucard’s neck with enough force to crack the floor.

She struggled free from underneath the weight of her friends and darted forward, racing along an invisible stairway into the air, jumping over Alucard when he was sent flying backwards.

Her hands glowed and she twisted, wrapping her arms and legs around Dracula’s back and clapping her hands over his face from behind. There was an awful sizzling noise accompanied by the stench of charred flesh, and Dracula reared back to smash her against the wall. Her grip weakened and she crumpled to the ground.

An explosion filled the corridor with smoke, and when it cleared, she lifted her head to see Dracula hunched over, talons digging into the floor.

“The Morning Star whip,” he said, a dark chuckle escaping his mouth. “Well played, Belmont.” He straightened, as strong as ever. “But I am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics—”

Lucian clamped her hands around his ankle, pouring all of her energy into a final burst of magic. Dracula roared and kicked out, and Lucian was sent flying, cracking against the ceiling and falling to the floor with a dull thud. She didn’t move.

“I am Vlad Dracula Ţepeş,” the vampire said, raising his arms. “And I have had _ENOUGH!_ ”

A massive fireball erupted in front of him and barreled down the hallway. Sypha threw up her hands, casting a counterspell, but it wasn’t strong enough. Trevor braced his back against hers, pushing against the force of the spell.

And then Alucard was there, the tip of his sword pushing the fireball back, driving it away and into his father. It exploded and blasted a hole clear through the wall, and when the smoke dissipated, Alucard and Dracula were gone.

Trevor hurried over to Lucian, placing a finger on her neck. He felt a faint pulse and sighed with relief before lightly slapping her face. “Hey, c’mon—get up.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on her chest, hoping it would help.

Lucian groaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open. They flew wide and she sat up, nearly knocking foreheads with Trevor. “... _Ow?_ ”

“Good, you’re awake,” Sypha said, though she looked relieved. “Come on—we have to hurry.”

Trevor pulled Lucian to her feet, getting her arm around him for support. They hurried for the stairs as fast as they could, following the sounds of fighting below.


	13. Chapter 13

“Vlad!” Lisa yelled, withdrawing her head from the wardrobe. “Any luck?”

“None yet,” Dracula called back from somewhere deeper in the castle. Adrian clung to the underside of his bed’s frame, muffling his squeaking laughter with his wings. 

“Of _course_ your son would figure out how to turn into a bat just to escape bathtime,” Lisa yelled, stooping to look under the bed. Adrian stayed very still, blending in with the shadows and barely managing to not give himself away laughing.

“Why is he only _my_ son when he misbehaves?” Dracula demanded, appearing in the door. He stopped, sniffing around, and crouched beside the bed. Adrian tried to move, but his father’s enormous hand caught him, carefully so as not to injure him with his talons.

Dracula straightened, holding Adrian by one foot. “You weren’t giving your mother any trouble, young man… _were_ you?”

Adrian shifted back and folded his arms, pouting at his father, who still had him by the ankle. “I don’t _need_ a bath,” he whined.

“Yes, you do, you’re filthy,” Lisa said. “Vlad, darling, let him go. He’ll behave.” She fixed Adrian with a look, and Adrian turned his pout on her.

“I don’t wanna stop being a bat,” he protested as his father turned him over and set him on the floor. “It’s _fun._ ”

Lisa knelt, taking her son’s shoulders and brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Tell you what,” she said. “You have your bath, and then you can go back to being a bat while I read to you.”

“Bats don’t need baths,” Adrian said sullenly.

“Clean bats fly better,” Dracula said, folding his arms.

“Listen to your father, he would know,” Lisa said. 

Adrian considered this for a moment. It didn’t sound _quite_ right, but then again, Mother was probably right. Father really did know everything.

“...Fine,” he conceded, and Lisa took his hand to lead him away. She glanced over her shoulder and winked at her husband, who smiled.

* * *

Alucard lay against the backboard of the bed where he’d fallen, breathing heavily. He recognised the walls, of course. The furniture. The rug, where he’d spent so many hours building fantastic structures out of blocks.

His father strode into the room, claws raised to deliver a killing blow, when he stopped. Alucard heard a soft gasp, and he lifted his head. 

Dracula slowly lowered his hands, staring at the room like he was seeing it for the first time. “It’s… your home,” he murmured. He looked up, and Alucard followed his gaze to the stars painted on the ceiling. “My boy…”

His words cut far deeper than any knife. Alucard stared at him, at the man who had raised him, loved him, and tried to kill him. Dracula looked empty, his gaze hollow as he stared in horror at his son.

“I’m killing my boy,” Dracula said. Even though he was right there, he sounded very far away. 

Alucard’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his father turn to the portrait above the dresser. He half-rose, using the footboard for support, moving noiselessly.

This was wrong. It never should have come to this.

“Lisa,” Dracula whispered, eyes fixed on the portrait. “I’m… killing our boy.” He looked around the room, eyes wide and fixed on a long-distant memory. “We painted this room, we… made these toys. It’s our boy, Lisa…”

Every instinct screamed at Alucard, but he didn’t know what they were saying.

His father. He had to kill his own father.

He rose to his feet, gripping the bedpost and breaking it off.

He walked forward.

Dracula turned to look at Alucard, and Alucard realised his father was finally seeing _him_.

His son. 

Holding a stake, approaching to kill him.

“Your greatest gift to me, and I’m killing him,” Dracula said. His eyes were soft and pleading. A silent apology, where no words would be great enough.

Alucard’s eyes stung. His hand tightened on the bedpost, trembling at the thought of what had to be done.

“I must already be dead,” Dracula said. Resignation. Acceptance. He met Alucard’s gaze, awaiting the inevitable.

Alucard stepped forward, wanting nothing more than to embrace his father, to tell him that it would be alright, that he forgave him. But Dracula was too far gone. He was speaking to a remnant of the man he loved.

He drove in the stake.

Blood dripped from Dracula’s mouth and he leaned forward, driving himself further onto the stake.

“Son,” Dracula whispered. Blood ran from the stab wound, over the stake and down Alucard’s arm to drip on the floor.

“Father…”

They remained frozen in time, staring at each other, and a lifetime passed between them. 

Alucard pressed the stake deeper and Dracula gasped, his head falling back.

He began to decay, smoke curling off his body as flesh melted and blackened, hanging from his skeleton as it sloughed off to the floor. Alucard backed away in horror as the rotting body advanced on him, arms raised in a groaning plea for an embrace. His hips pressed against the footboard, and he froze, staring at the desiccated face, skeletal hands reaching for him.

A flash of silver, and Trevor’s sword severed his father’s head from the body to land in a puddle of blood on the floor. A long pause, and then the body fell to the ground, motionless.

“Alucard!” Lucian gasped, sidestepping around the body and hurrying to him. He startled at her touch, but let her draw him away from the bed.

He was trembling, he realised, and the tremors grew when Sypha silently set the body alight.

Lucian’s arm was around his waist, and he turned to her, hiding his battered face against her hair. He stiffened when he felt a gentle hand tangle in his own hair, and fought back tears when Lucian stroked his back.

No words needed to be said. He just let her hold him, listening to the crackle of flames and the splintering of bones.

A quiet shriek made him look up to see an explosion of black smoke escape the body, the faces of the damned howling as they rose up to the ceiling and burst through the window. As they watched, the smoke dissipated, and the last of Dracula was no more.

Alucard buried his face against Lucian’s hair again, trying to tune out the world. His father was dead, and by his own hand. He was never coming back, and it was all his fault.

He didn’t think he could live with that.

“Is…” Sypha stuttered, lowering her arms. “Is that it?”

“Alucard?” Trevor asked. He’d shielded his face with his hands, and now he let them drop, watching the dhampir warily. “Did we... do it?”

Alucard lifted his head from Lucian’s hair to stare mutely at the charred rug, the single silver ring lying among the ashes. 

The ring glinted innocently, unaware that the relationship it symbolised had been destroyed a long time ago.

Alucard drifted away from Lucian, eyes fixed on the ring. “I...” he said, and hated how his voice caught. “...killed my father.”

“You ended a war on humankind,” Trevor said, folding his arms. “Don’t get weepy about it.”

Sypha held up a hand before Alucard could lunge at Trevor and rip his throat out.

Not that he thought he had the energy to. It was the principle of the thing, really.

“Trevor’s right,” the Speaker said, her voice gentle and soothing. “You’ve saved countless lives. But...” She took a step towards him, and he felt Lucian’s arm settle around his waist. “It’s alright to mourn the man, too.”

Alucard pushed Lucian away, and she stepped back, folding her hands in front of her.

“He died a long time ago,” Alucard said firmly. He glanced up at the portrait of his family above the dresser before bowing his head.

He really was alone.

* * *

The four of them made their way down through the castle in silence. Lucian kept glancing at Alucard, wishing he would speak—any word, even if it was to yell at them—but he’d gone numb.

She recognised the face. Many of the bereaved came to the church, seeking solace in the light of God, and Lucian had oft been the one to receive them, even as she felt her own faith dwindling. It wasn’t faith they were seeking, though, as she’d come to realise. It was a friendly ear and a kind word. Reassurances for the grief they were feeling, confirmation that they were allowed to grieve as they were. A hug, a promise that they would be able to heal, and their loved ones were waiting for them in the Kingdom of Heaven.

She had no idea if the last part was true or not. But it made them happy to hear, and if that was what it took to bring relief to her people, then so be it. That was her job. 

She barely knew Alucard, but she was certain empty platitudes of eternal salvation wouldn’t do him much good. So she simply drifted closer, fingers hovering over the small of his back until he pressed into her touch, and she was forced to admit that, immortal though he was—he was human, too.

He grieved his family like she grieved her own. There were no words.

They made it down to the entry hall, emerging in the dawn of a new day. Lucian could suddenly see the extent of the beating he’d endured written across his face, and she wished she could help. Her reserves were gone, though, and she couldn’t even heal the deep puncture wounds that went under her collarbone; blood kept seeping out between her fingers despite the pressure she kept on it.

“You’re hurt,” Alucard said, lifting a hand to carefully touch her own. His fingers came away sticky with blood.

“Get a room, you two,” Trevor muttered, and Alucard glanced over his shoulder at him. He didn’t have the energy to glare.

He was trembling again, he realised, the enormity of what he’d done finally starting to sink in.

Something touched his arm, and he looked around to see Sypha’s hand settling there in a small gesture of comfort. Her face was soft.

Alucard wanted to speak—to say _something_ , to say anything. Anything to fill the horrible silence between them.

He kept his head down and said nothing, and he closed his eyes.

He couldn’t let them see him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write to make myself suffer. Poor Alucard.


	14. Chapter 14

Days passed at the castle. Lucian sought out Alucard, but he never seemed to be around, always vanishing a half-second before she looked into rooms. She knew he was still there, but she got a sense he was avoiding them, and so by the end of the second day, when she lost herself in Sypha’s embrace, she decided to leave well alone until he was ready.

She could respect that. Sometimes she wished she could be alone, too.

They found the kitchen on the second day, a warm pot of soup left to simmer on the stovetop. It _had_ to be Alucard, but without him around she couldn’t exactly thank him to his face. She tore out a filler page in one of the books (hating herself as she did), and scribbled a note of thanks to leave in the kitchen.

It was gone the next day, but Lucian was hopeful that meant Alucard was considering it.

She tried her best to heal her and Sypha’s wounds. They sat together in the evenings in one of what seemed like endless lounges, and Lucian would place her hands on Sypha’s arm, straining to undo whatever Dracula had done to her.

Sypha would always stop her when she realised the priest was about to go too far. It was annoying, yes, but Lucian seemed overly-concerned with the scars when Sypha just wanted it to heal so she could move on with her life.

“I promise it doesn’t matter,” Sypha said softly. They were camped out in one of the parlours, blankets spread out on the floor to make a sort of nest. Trevor snored on the sofa, and Lucian and Sypha laid on the floor, unused to the plush comfort of feather-stuffed cushions.

“But your arm,” Lucian protested. “If I can’t heal it, you’ll—”

“I will bear the marks of my story,” Sypha said, and touched Lucian’s cheek. “There are many things to be ashamed of in our lives, but scars are not one of them. It just shows you were strong enough to survive whatever caused them.”

And there, on the floor of the parlour, they kissed.

Sypha’s arms wrapped around Lucian’s body, drawing her closer. Her hands tangled in the priest’s hair, pulling her in, savouring the softness of the other woman.

Lucian pressed up to her, a thigh coming up between her legs, and Sypha gasped against her mouth before gently—but firmly—pushing her away.

“I’m sorry,” Lucian stammered. “I thought—”

“I know,” Sypha murmured, and kissed her again. “I’d love to, but I’m not ready.”

Lucian pulled away, fiddling with the edge of the blanket they shared. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Sypha said quickly, and caught her face, cupping her cheek. Lucian turned to look at her, skin pale even in the middle of the night. “I care about you,” Sypha said firmly. “But we barely know each other. Let me get to know you first.” Her lips were soft as she gently kissed Lucian again. “Please?”

“Yeah,” Lucian whispered, and leaned into Sypha’s touch. “That’s alright.”

* * *

They never got the opportunity. Trevor wanted to leave, to explore, to fight, and much as she hated leaving, Sypha wanted to go, too. She was too used to wandering, and staying in one place just felt _wrong_ in a way no words could describe.

But _wrong_ was the only way she could describe leaving Alucard behind. He said he wanted to stay, wanted to let his father’s secrets fall to ruin, but even after Trevor left the Belmont hold to his care, she couldn’t help but feel they were making a grave mistake leaving him to fend for himself.

“Do you think we should be doing this?” Sypha asked, leaning against the wall as she watched Trevor pack his things back into his bag. 

“Why not?” Trevor asked. “The darling dhampir said we should leave him alone, and who are we to disrespect his wishes? Besides,” he added, taking Sypha by the shoulders, “there’s a whole world out there. You and me, and the annoying little priest.”

Sypha’s hands caught his, and she squeezed. “I just worry,” she said softly. “Alucard _must_ be grieving, and our leaving wouldn’t be good for him—”

“He told us to go,” Trevor said. “You don’t think it’d be worse if we stayed?”

Their fingers twined together, and Sypha took a moment to think. “I suppose, if he needs to be alone, it would be for the best.” She looked up at Trevor and smiled sadly. “But we should return at some point—just to check in.”

Trevor’s hand squeezed back and he rested his forehead against hers. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “But until then—we’ll travel. Together.”

“Together,” Sypha murmured. “Forever.”

* * *

Lucian helped Trevor load up the wagon, her heart sinking a little more with each satchel he passed up to her. She felt uncomfortably chilly despite the warmer air, and her wounds strained against their bandages from the work; she was effectively using just her right arm, left too stiff and achy to be of much use.

“Be well, my friend,” Sypha said, gripping Alucard’s hands.

“You too,” Alucard said, and gave her a soft smile. “Don’t let that idiot get you into too much trouble.”

A couple of the bags slipped, and Lucian and Trevor weren’t quite fast enough to catch them. They fell to the ground, and Lucian sighed, leaning against the inside of the wagon and glancing at Alucard. Her throat itched and she coughed into her sleeve.

Alucard wore a brave face, but she could see the pain he was hiding. He didn’t speak it, but his eyes screamed volumes.

“I’m going to miss you,” Lucian said softly.

He looked over at her, and looked away. “I would say the same were it true,” he finally said. His hair obscured his face, but from the tautness of his shoulders, she could tell it was. “Look after yourself for me.”

Her heart twisted, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was making a huge mistake. 

“I will,” she said, looking away as well.

They climbed into the wagon, Sypha and Trevor taking the driver’s bench and Lucian remaining in the back among their packing, and Alucard lifted his middle finger in a farewell.

“Fuck you,” Trevor said fondly, and snapped the reins, urging the horses to move. Lucian remained staring after Alucard until he turned to go inside.

Her heart sank further as the castle receded into the distance, and the moment it disappeared from view, she realised that she couldn’t go. She couldn’t leave him.

He needed people, even if he drove them away.

“Guys, wait,” she said, and Trevor stopped the horses, glancing back at her.

Lucian grabbed her bag and jumped out the back, walking around to the front of the wagon to pull Sypha down for one last kiss. “I can’t go,” she said, drawing back. “Alucard needs somebody, and I’d just slow you down on the road.”

“No kiss for me?” Trevor asked lightly, though his eyebrows had flown up in surprise.

“You can come back from your adventures and I’ll give you one then,” Lucian said, matching his tone. She wasn’t entirely sure if she meant it or not, but the prospect made her cheeks colour with embarrassment. 

Trevor’s smirk in return did nothing to help her blush.

“It’s a long walk back,” Sypha said uncertainly. “Will you be alright?”

Lucian patted her belt, where her collapsed spear was tucked. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “If anything happens, I’ll just run into the sky.”

Trevor laughed. “It might be easier to just miracle yourself there, you know.” Lucian stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned. “Good luck staying with that sulky, peacocking bastard. He’ll drive you mad within the week.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Lucian said. There was an odd lump in her throat, and she swallowed it down. “You guys take care.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sypha promised, and Trevor urged the horses to start walking again. “Look out for yourself!”

“ _You_ look out for yourself!” Lucian called back, waving. She watched the wagon go, and realised tears were dripping down her cheeks.

The walk back seemed to last an eternity, especially with the sting from her still-weeping injuries. Her boots were well-made, though, and she barely felt the uneven dirt beneath her feet. It gave her time to think—and try to ignore her steadily-worsening cough from the dusty road. 

Alucard would be upset with her return, but he would just have to get used to it. It wasn’t like he would be able to send her away; Sypha and Trevor would be long gone. She just hoped it wouldn’t upset him too much.

* * *

His friends were gone and his parents were dead, one by his own hand. Alucard remained sitting in his father’s study long after the tears stopped, staring numbly at the floor. He didn’t know how long the seconds stretched into hours, but it wasn’t until the sun was sinking outside the window that he heard soft footsteps in the hall. 

He lifted his head, and Lucian was there in the doorway, face pink and bag still slung over her shoulder. He couldn’t believe she was there—he was just seeing more ghosts.

“Alucard,” she whispered, dropping the bag and running to him. He caught her in his arms, and he could smell her, smell the dirt and sunshine she brought in with her, and he knew she was real. And she was warm, and solid, and she was good.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, holding her at arm’s length. “Where are the others? Did they come back as well?”

A small part of him died when Lucian shook her head. “They’re gone,” she said. “They’ll be miles away by now. I couldn’t leave you, I know you wanted to be alone but you shouldn’t be, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m... glad you came back.”

Lucian’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’ll make you some tea,” she said. She lifted a hand, gently brushing his hair out of his face. “You look like you could use a warm drink right now.”

“That would be nice.” His voice was faint, but Lucian smiled and disappeared out the door.

He sank back into the chair when she was gone and felt the tears come back in full force.

* * *

He found Lucian in the kitchen, pouring hot tea into a pair of mugs. She turned and startled, hand flying to her chest when she saw him in the doorway, disheveled and probably still red-eyed from crying.

“I was just going to come find you—I made the tea,” she said, picking one of the mugs off the counter and offering it to him.

He took the mug, set it back down, and pulled her into a hug. 

Lucian tensed under his arms for a moment before hugging him back, arms settling around his waist. Alucard clung to her, feeling her shiver; he hadn’t realised how badly he craved this until he had her in his embrace. A friendly touch, a kind voice, and the safety that let him be vulnerable in her presence.

Because Lucian was safe. And she was _there_ , she was really there and he didn’t have to be alone.

“Why did you come back?” he whispered against her hair.

“Because you needed me.” Lucian’s voice was small. “I know you said you wanted to be alone but you’re hurting. You shouldn’t be alone. If you’d rather spend the days avoiding me until you’re ready to talk, that’s fine, but I’ll be here when you are.”

His breath hitched, and he thought he might start crying again. Instead, he drew back and picked up the tea, sitting down at the table. Lucian retrieved her own mug and sat with him, hands wrapped around it while she studied him.

In a way, he hated how perceptive she was. It was like she laid him out bare, an open book, unable to hide its secrets. But that was what brought her back to him, he realised, her understanding of him driving her to return.

Alucard sipped his tea, noticing Lucian didn’t drink from hers. “I suppose if you are to stay here, you’ll be needing your own bedroom.”

Lucian’s eyes went wide at that. “M-my own room?”

“Yes,” Alucard said. “Unless you’d rather remain camped in the parlour—”

He was gratified to hear her laugh. Bright and happy, her head thrown back, cheeks flushed. He studied how the evening sunlight glinted off her hair, turning the mousy strands into an almost copper. The happiness was a fleeting moment, but it felt like the dark thoughts pressing in on him were temporarily held at bay.

She was right. He _did_ need her, loath as he was to admit it. It was good to not be alone.

“I’ve never had my own room before,” Lucian said, a smile still playing around the corners of her mouth.

Alucard sipped his tea to hide his own reluctant smile. “It is a luxury you’ll find hard to live without.”

“Not having to listen to everyone’s snores, or trying to change clothes without them seeing...” Lucian sighed wistfully. “I really get my own room?”

“Yes,” Alucard said. “You really do. Frankly, I should have offered them to all of you before, but—”

Lucian leaned across the table to grip his hand. “You didn’t have to do anything,” she said firmly. “Besides, it was plenty cosy in the parlour where we made camp.”

“I’d hardly call it camping,” Alucard said idly, and Lucian drew back to flip him off before reaching for her tea. He noted the way she grimaced when she sipped at it. 

“So, now what?” Lucian asked, lowering her mug. She coughed, wondering if her drink went down the wrong way.

Alucard hummed, his long fingers closing around the warmth of his own mug. “I’m not sure,” he said at last. “Trevor left his family hold in my care—”

“You called him Trevor.”

Alucard blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“You called him Trevor,” Lucian repeated. “It’s always been Belmont, before.”

“I suppose now that I am no longer subjected to his stench I’m feeling unusually kind towards him,” Alucard said, and Lucian nearly spat out her tea laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know a month passed in between seasons two and three, but not what happened in that time. Am I going to take full advantage of this? You bet I am. 
> 
> We'll check in on Trevor and Sypha soon, but next chapter is more of Alucard and Lucian. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like medical grossness, there's a bit of that in this chapter.

Even with Alucard’s reassurances that the castle was now her home, too, Lucian couldn’t help but feel like an imposing guest. She hung her vestments in the empty wardrobe of the room she’d chosen and stood there for a moment, staring at them. She coughed, covering her mouth with her elbow, and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold.

She still couldn’t believe everything that had happened. The world was safe again, and Dracula was dead. Alucard had been quiet on the matter, and she let it be; he would talk when he was ready.

There came a soft rap of knuckles on the doorframe and she turned to see Alucard leaning against it, arm above his head. She couldn’t help her gaze dropping to the exposed sliver of skin where his shirt pulled up from the motion.

“Do you not have any other clothes?” he asked, nodding at the pitifully empty wardrobe. When Lucian shook her head, he looked her over, sizing her up. “You seem like you would fit into my mother’s old things,” he said.

Lucian’s eyebrows went up. “A-are you sure about that?” she stammered.

“I’m sure,” Alucard said. “She has no need for them anymore, after all...” He trailed off and turned away, gesturing for her to follow.

She was going to have to get used to the layout of the castle if she was going to be living here. Their assault against Dracula had only taken them through a small portion of it, and it was much bigger than the already-huge exterior would suggest.

Alucard led her to a grand room, decorated with furniture from across several centuries all carefully selected to somehow still match. Against the back wall was an enormous bed with a carved mahogany base.

“This was your parents’ room?” Lucian asked, pausing on the threshold. It felt almost like walking into the mausoleum of a stranger.

“My mother’s,” Alucard said. “Humans and vampires tend to keep different sleep schedules, even when they try to match.”

That was a very large bed for a single person, and Lucian was struck by the sudden mental image of Dracula and the woman from the portrait in bed together. Desperately wishing she could scrub that from her brain, she squeezed her eyes shut briefly before hurrying to follow Alucard to the wardrobe.

The gowns inside were very well made, most of them fine wools and linens, but a few of silk and satin existed beside them. There were also tunics and form-fitting breeches—man’s clothes. Lucian glanced at Alucard for permission, but he wouldn’t have brought her here if he wasn’t serious. She pulled out a soft linen tunic that matched her eyes. 

She was no stranger to fine clothes thanks to the church sparing no expense on their vestments, but it was the gowns that really caught her eye. She’d never worn one before, and she replaced the tunic before carefully pulling out a sky blue dress made from the softest wool she’d ever touched, darker blue lacing going up the sleeves to the elbows.

“So she could roll them up,” Alucard said, noticing Lucian examine the lacings. “She was a very practical woman.”

Lucian’s eyes couldn’t help straying to the large bust, which she could already tell would gap horribly on her. She glanced back up at Alucard. “I would need to alter these to fit,” she said uncertainly, and he shrugged.

“Do with them as you wish,” he said. “They’re yours now.”

“Thank you,” Lucian said softly, stifling another cough. “It’s very kind of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I thought perhaps you would like to dine with me tonight?”

Her head shot up at that. Considering how the dhampir had been doing his utmost best to avoid them, this was progress. She smiled and nodded, hugging the blue gown closer to her chest. “I would love to.”

* * *

Lucian knew how to sew, but it would take ages to tailor all of her new clothing to fit her frame. She coughed, and paused when she felt mucous come up. 

That was worrying. She’d never been sick before. She concentrated, trying to heal it away.

She coughed again, harder this time.

“Fine. Right, then,” she said to herself, and laid out the first gown on the floor when her coughing subsided. “Let’s see what these miracles can do.”

She found a pair of shears in one of the empty rooms and returned to hers, beginning to carefully pick her way through the seams of the bodice without tearing the fabric, especially with her persistently-growing cough. 

It was slow going with the larger shears, but eventually she managed to free the front panels to trim them down to size, setting aside the scrap fabric and replacing the now-smaller panels. She put her hands on the gown.

“I hope this works,” she muttered, closing her eyes. 

The fabric shifted under her fingers, and when she opened her eyes again, the bodice was mended to its new size. Lucian grinned and glanced back to her door to make sure it was shut before she quickly shucked her clothing and pulled the gown on over her head.

It fell in soft folds around her legs, hugging her flat chest. She winced when the fabric dragged over the bandages wrapped around her shoulder, and realised now that Sypha was gone she would have to ask Alucard to help her re-dress the wounds.

She could worry about that later. Lucian went over to the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection before twirling around, loving the way the skirts flared out around her legs and how the waistline emphasised her hips—the one feminine part of her body. She laughed and twirled again, but the laughter quickly turned into more coughing, and she sank down on the bed, holding her stomach as the force of the coughs became stronger.

When it subsided, she lay back on the bed, shivering.

Was this what it felt like to be sick? If it was, why couldn’t she heal herself when she placed a hand to her chest, urging her breathing to clear?

She could ask Alucard over dinner. With a doctor for a mother and a father who taught her, surely he’d know something about medicine as well.

That was a funny thought. Whenever someone else at the church got sick, it was willow tea and prayers until they recovered. Sometimes if their condition worsened, Lucian would sneak to their bed at night to heal them, with nobody the wiser.

After about an hour lying on the bed feeling sorry for herself, she forced herself upright to continue with the other clothes. She barely finished a spring green gown when she heard a gentle rap on the door, and she hurried to answer.

“Dinner’s—” Alucard froze, and his eyes raked over the gown—over her body. “...ready.” He cleared his throat. “You look nice.”

Lucian ducked her head, smiling shyly. “Thank you.”

Nice was an understatement. With the gown fitted to her frame, the way the bodice clung to her torso and the skirts fell from her hips—the way her choppy hair fell into her eyes—the smile that showed off her slightly-bucked teeth and dimple—she was beautiful.

The proper thing to do would be to offer her his arm.

“I hope you like rabbit,” he said instead, leading her downstairs, hoping she hadn’t noticed his staring.

“I’ve never had it before,” Lucian said. “I had a lot of fish growing up, though. Sometimes pork or chicken when I’d go home.” She sighed, wistful and sad. “Mama made the most amazing chicken and polenta—Gavril and I would fight over who got the last serving.”

Alucard glanced at her. “I hope mine is able to meet your expectations, then.”

Lucian gasped. “You made polenta?” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she inhaled to smell the cooking wafting from the kitchen, and she sighed. “Oh, it smells wonderful.” 

Alucard pushed open the kitchen door, and Lucian sat at the table where he’d already laid out dishes. She began coughing when he brought the tureen over, and he frowned, setting it between them. “Are you alright?”

He noted how long the coughing continued, and his frown deepened slightly. When she lifted her face from her sleeve, he noticed she was flushed, almost feverish.

“I’m not sure,” Lucian said as he ladled out food for them. Braised rabbit with carrots and onions in a polenta sauce—a recipe he’d wanted to make for the others, but they’d left before he could. His heart panged, but he set the plate down for Lucian before serving himself.

She took a bite and groaned quietly, and he hid a smile when she wiggled in her seat. The urge to smile vanished when she ducked her head in another fit of coughing.

“I think I might be sick,” Lucian rasped when the fit passed, and Alucard was out of his seat and by her side in an instant, putting the back of his hand to her forehead.

He hissed quietly; she was burning up.

“I’ve never actually been sick before,” Lucian added, her face pinking further.

_Fuck._ And with her healing abilities, he had no doubt she was correct about that, which meant her immune system wouldn’t have built itself up over her lifetime. He hid his concern, though, and said, “Can you not heal this away?” already certain she’d tried and failed.

She confirmed as such, and he withdrew his hand, sitting back down. “Are you feeling well enough to finish your food?” 

“It’s a fever and a cough,” Lucian said sourly, poking at her rabbit. “I’m more than well enough.” She shovelled another forkful in her mouth and closed her eyes. “This really is amazing—I might have to bug you into teaching me how to cook.”

“Once you’re no longer coughing at the drop of a hat, I’ll show you,” Alucard said. He didn’t eat, steepling his fingers while he studied her. He recalled her cough starting earlier in the day, but it wasn’t this bad. Rapid progression wasn’t a good sign.

No sooner had he thought it than Lucian started coughing again, and now that he was listening, he could hear a faint rattling from her chest when she inhaled.

“I’m... concerned,” he said at last, picking up his fork. “If you’ve never been ill before, you’ll be vulnerable now that you are.” He began to eat, pleased with how the rabbit turned out, but his enjoyment of the meal was marred with worry.

“How vulnerable?” Lucian asked.

“I’m not sure.” Another bite while he gathered his thoughts. “It’s lucky you came back to the castle when you did.”

Another fit of coughing. Alucard paused, watching her anxiously until it passed.

“I guess so. Um.” Lucian picked at her food again, and from the way her face reddened, he didn’t think it was from the fever. “I could also, um, use some help changing my dressings,” she added, indicating the bandages visible under the neck of her gown.

“It would be no trouble,” Alucard said, when a horrible thought struck him. “How long since you last changed them?”

Lucian bit her lip. “Two days?” she said meekly.

Alucard swore and instantly regretted it when she flinched away. “The instant you’re done eating we’re going to my father’s laboratory,” he said firmly. 

Lucian gave him a sarcastic salute. “Yes sir!”

“Spare me the theatrics. This is for your own good.” Every line of his body was taut. Of course if she wasn’t used to looking after herself, she’d have neglected to change the bandages, but that likely meant some sort of infection was setting in. 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her _sulk_ before. It didn’t last long before it was interrupted by a coughing fit, and she just sullenly nodded, tucking back into her dinner.

Alucard ate quickly, wanting to be finished before she was. He kept running through what he would need after dinner, growing slightly more panicked with each thought that Dracula likely wouldn’t have kept the mould cultures growing after his mother’s death.

Lucian eventually set her fork down and moved to take the dishes to the sink, but Alucard shook his head. “I’ll do that later,” he said. “I’d rather look at you as soon as possible.”

He heard her sigh—her breath rattled again—and led her up the stairs to the lab, glad she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words. Really, out of any of the three who could have come back, he was glad it was her.

“I’d like to look at your shoulder, first,” Alucard said. He went to a basin to wash his hands before retrieving a roll of sterile bandages, indicating Lucian should sit on one of the tables without looking.

He heard her freeze behind him, and when he turned around, she was playing with the neck of her gown, which was much too tight for her to slip an arm out. 

“Ah.”

“Yep.” She licked her lips nervously. It wasn’t like others had seen her shirtless—Sypha, for one, but that was often how she slept back in the cathedral. 

It felt _different_ with Alucard, though. He would be expecting her to look... not like this. _Normal_.

He turned away out of politeness, but she still felt incredibly self-conscious to have him in the room.

She rolled her eyes skywards. “Lord, give me strength,” she murmured, and pulled her gown over her head, leaving her in just her braies. She winced when the movement strained her shoulder and held the gown over her chest, trying to look anywhere but him as she sat on the table. She shivered and coughed, hiding her face in the fabric of the gown.

Alucard wasn’t interested in looking, though. He just crossed wordlessly over to her and set the bandages down, long fingers carefully beginning to unwrap the bandages Sypha had helped her with. 

An awful smell hit his nose when the last one fell away, and his heart sank when he saw the puncture wounds left by his father’s claws were infected as he’d feared. A bright red rash spread away from the wounds, which were swollen and surrounded by boils oozing pus.

If he was right about what this was, he wouldn’t be surprised if Lucian was in the early stages of pneumonia. 

“Oh,” Lucian said faintly, staring at her shoulder. “That doesn’t look good.”

He couldn’t let her see his panic. The last thing he needed right then was for her to start hyperventilating again, _especially_ because there was no way he was giving her the pipe in her current condition.

“Admittedly, it could be better.” He began re-dressing the wounds. “I believe this might be the reason for your cough, but I would need to consult some texts to be sure. If the boils don’t resolve on their own, I could lance them to let them drain.”

“Can’t you do it now?” Lucian asked, but he shook his head.

“That could potentially make things worse.” Her skin was worryingly hot under his fingers. “Right now the priority is to keep the infection from spreading further until I can culture some medicine for you.”

“Not willow bark?” Lucian said warily.

Alucard chuckled despite himself. “Proper medicine. Believe it or not, it’s actually made from mould.”

He expected protestations, but Lucian’s eyebrows just went up and she grinned. “I would very much like to know the science behind that.”

“I could bring you some books on the subject later tonight, if you’d like,” Alucard said. “But I really must get a culture started if you are to get well again.” He tied off the bandages and turned away again so Lucian could pull her gown back on.

“That would be nice,” Lucian said quietly. She straightened her skirts and took a deep breath, and it rattled in her chest. “Alucard?” He turned back to her, and she bit her lip. “Am I going to die?”

Alucard hesitated. “I won’t lie to you, it’s a possibility. I promise I’ll do my utmost to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Strangely enough, that actually made her feel a little better. She trusted him, and his honesty was appreciated. Her hands still knotted in her skirts, and she sucked air through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft._

“I think I’ll... go back to my room,” she murmured. “I won’t disturb you.”

Alucard watched her leave; when she’d gone, he brought a fist down on the table, denting the metal with a horrible screeching noise. He clutched the edges of it, breathing heavily. 

He couldn’t lose her.

Not so soon after he’d lost his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyway after all that who's ready for a mood whiplash next chapter, accompanied by smut?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fair warning, I am very inexperienced at writing smut, so have a short taster while I start to get my bearings. ...Enjoy?

“This looks like a good place to stop,” Trevor said, tugging on the reins. He and Sypha unhitched the horses and rubbed them down.

She kept glancing at him. Save for the occasional murmur from him, it seemed like he’d been content to listen to her as she verbally composed the tale she would share with the Speakers when they caught up to her family.

“You’ve been very quiet today,” Sypha noted, leading one of the horses to a stream to drink.

Trevor took charge of the other horse. “I liked listening to you,” he said. “You have a nice voice.”

A rush of heat went straight to her face, and she focused _very_ intently on petting her horse’s neck. “I should hope I do,” she said, deflecting the compliment. “I would be a very poor Speaker otherwise.”

Trevor chuckled at that. “What happens to the Speakers who don’t have nice voices?”

“Oh, we kick them out and make them live in exile, of course,” Sypha said. At Trevor’s startled look, she laughed. “Don’t tell me you believed that?”

“Maybe for a moment,” he said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. His horse lifted its head, and he led it over to a tree to secure it and let it graze. After a moment, Sypha followed suit, and they split up to look for firewood.

She kept thinking back to Alucard and Lucian, wondering how they were doing. If Lucian had made it back to the castle safely.

If Lucian kept thinking about her farewell kiss as much as she was.

Sypha almost wished she’d gone ahead and slept with her, especially if she’d known how soon after they would be leaving. But she’d been sincere about what she’d said: she just didn’t know her well enough.

Lucian was too much like Alucard in that regard, too closed off and guarded.

Not like Trevor. You knew exactly what you were looking at with him. And over the last few days, she got to see the warmth from him—it was like, now that Dracula was dead, a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He smiled more.

He had a nice smile.

Sypha shivered when they reconvened at the campsite; Trevor was already stacking firewood in a shallow pit. He noticed her approach and sat back, and Sypha set the wood ablaze.

“We’ll be eating well until provisions run out,” Trevor noted, impaling a sausage on a stick and holding it over the flames, passing another over to Sypha.

“Alucard spoiled us for the journey,” she agreed. She scooted over so she was leaning against Trevor, and he put an arm around her. “You really are much nicer to travel with now that you’ve been washing.”

“Oh, shut up,” Trevor said, but he chuckled. “When you’re on your own all the time, not really a lot of motivation to stay clean.”

“Speaking of staying clean,” Sypha said, “I’ll need you to help me with my bandages, now that Lucian’s gone.”

She glanced up at him, a smile curling her mouth when she noticed his face went red.

“Sure,” Trevor said, swallowing.

This was going to be fun.

Sypha checked on her sausage, and, deciding it was done enough, pulled it out of the flames and blew on it to cool it before taking a slow bite, pretending to be unaware of Trevor’s eyes on her. 

“Your food is burning,” Sypha said, and Trevor quickly pulled back to extinguish it.

He examined the blackened skin, shrugged, and bit off a piece, only to immediately inhale sharply to cool off his mouth. “Hot!”

“It was _just_ on fire, what did you expect?” Sypha teased.

Trevor shrugged, unconcerned. “What? I’m hungry.” His hand gently rubbed up and down Sypha’s arm, careful not to agitate her injuries. 

They finished their meal, and Sypha retrieved the bandages from the wagon, tossing them to Trevor before pulling her robe and tunic over her head and undoing her breast-bindings without a second thought. She was _very_ amused by Trevor’s stunned expression as he drank her in.

Her breasts were small, firm, nipples hardening from the cool night air. Sypha turned to him, deliberately presenting a side view, and Trevor swallowed. _Hard._

His fingers were clumsy as they fumbled with the bandages; it was much more difficult than it should have been, considering he kept glancing down (trying _not_ to glance down), extremely distracted by Sypha’s breasts.

“You can look... if you’d like,” Sypha said, and he felt himself harden at that. He knew the tone too well, after several tumbles with barmaids over the years. Still, he never imagined that it would be happening with _Sypha_ , of all people.

Somehow, her permission to look let him focus more on the task at hand, and he peeled the bandages carefully away from her arm, re-dressing the wounds. He tied them into place, and a small, soft hand touched his cheek.

“Thank you,” Sypha said, grinning, “for your most excellent care, Belmont.”

He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, mirroring her gesture, and she leaned in.

Her lips were slightly chapped, her mouth gentle, and he let her lead, sighing against her when her other hand tangled in his hair. Feeling bolder, his hands slid down her sides to settle at her waist, and when she shifted closer, he pulled her onto his lap.

Sypha straddled him without breaking the kiss and _oh_ , she surely had to feel how hard he was now. He ran a light tongue along her bottom lip, and she shivered, pulling him tighter.

The memory of their morning farewell to Lucian chose to return at this point, and he drew back, though he didn’t pull away entirely. “What about...?”

Sypha didn’t need to ask who he meant. “I care about her, very much,” she said. “But I care about you too.” She leaned her forehead against his, and he pressed back, remembering their conversation about leaving the castle. “And I want to do this with _you_. As long as you do, too.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said, heart catching in his throat. “Yeah, Sypha, I do.”

Her hands slid down to the knotted ties of his new cloak, and she threw it from his shoulders to make them a blanket to lay upon. Trevor pulled off his shirt, and Sypha pushed him backwards, kissing along his jaw, down his neck, running her hands over his arms as she kissed her way down the faint trail of hair that led beneath his waistband. She paused to press a kiss to the bulge in his trousers, and Trevor groaned, his head falling back.

“ _Sypha_...”

She moved her way back up, settling over his hips, grinding through their clothing. Trevor lifted himself up on one arm, and from there, he let his lips brush against her sternum, just below her breasts. His other hand settled at the small of her back, pulling her closer, before turning them over—carefully, so as not to damage her arm further—and when she was settled on the cloak, he bent over her to take a nipple in his mouth. 

Sypha’s back arched into him, and her soft plea of “ _More_ ” went straight to his dick. He cupped her other breast in one hand, squeezing gently, rolling it under his palm. Sypha shuddered, and he kissed his way over her chest, loving the feeling of her nails when they raked lightly down his back. He paused at her neck, licking the spot above her collarbone and sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Mm!” Sypha’s fingers dug in, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, savouring his warm weight on top of her. They lay there for a moment, skin to skin, and she met his mouth for another kiss. Her tongue slipped inside, teasing against his own, and he moaned into her mouth. The sound sent tingles through her body, and she deepened the kiss, using her toes to kick off her sandals while her legs were still wrapped around him.

Trevor pulled away, and for a moment she wanted his mouth back on hers, but then she felt his fingers hook inside her waistband, where they paused. He looked up at her, a silent question.

“Go on,” she said, lifting her hips slightly to help. 

In a practiced move, he slid off her leggings, leaving her bare beneath him, and then his mouth was on her, teasing her inner thighs with his tongue. She was already slick, and when his tongue found her clit, her hips bucked. She felt his hands, rough and calloused, grip her thighs to hold her still, and he set to work, licking both inside and out until she was squirming beneath him. 

“Just like—ah!— _Trevor_ , oh, put your fingers in me?” 

She was so close, and when he carefully slid in a finger, then another, teasing her open, she thrust down on his hand. 

His mouth disappeared, and she heard his whisper. “You’re so _beautiful_ , Sypha.”

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations as his fingers pumped inside her, thumb circling her clit and driving her to the edge.

“I’m—!”

She tensed around his hand and she leaned down, capturing his mouth in a kiss as she climaxed. She could taste herself on him, and the thought of his head between her legs, the things his tongue did, just made her want _more_.

Her orgasm left her quivering, a warm glow spreading through her body, and _wow_. If that was what his foreplay was like, she couldn’t wait for the main event.

“My turn,” she said, and sat up. Trevor was kneeling in front of her, and she undid the ties at the front of his trousers. His erection sprang free, and she took it in her hand, smiling at the groan of pleasure he let out.

She stroked him carefully a few times, fingers teasing their way up and down his length as she watched him shiver under her touch. “Would you like to lie down for this?”

“Yes,” he said, almost mortified at the way his voice cracked. He sat, kicking off his boots and pulling his trousers off the rest of the way, and Sypha kissed her way along the length of his shaft, nearly undoing him in the process. 

“Lick it?” he asked, and Sypha did, running her tongue up and down before taking the head into her mouth. “Oh, _God_ , Sypha,” Trevor moaned. He sat up, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she let go. He pulled her down on top of him, kissing her, tugging on her hair. “I am going to come way too quickly if you keep that up,” he murmured against her mouth, and he felt her entire body shake with laughter against him.

There was nothing between them now, and Sypha sat back, bracing her hands on his thighs so he could look up at her in her naked glory.

“What do you think?” she said, a gleam in her eye. “Let me ride you until you’re gasping my name?”

He _really_ couldn’t go any harder, but it was a near thing. 

“What would I have to give to see that?” Trevor asked, hands settling on her hips.

Sypha grinned and lifted herself up, easing herself onto him. They both gasped softly as she slowly slid down on him; she was still so wet from earlier, and so very, very warm. She paused, bracing her hands on his chest, and he caught one of her wrists, pressing a kiss to her palm.

She began to move, and it was only with all of his self control he kept himself from coming right then and there. He moved with her as best he could, thrusting up into her, hands squeezing her thighs in encouragement.

“You feel _amazing_ ,” he gasped, and Sypha threw her head back, firelight gleaming off her hair. He sat up and she was forced to slow, wrapping her legs around his waist again. They rocked together, stealing light kisses from each other, hands running over fire-warmed skin. He kept the pace slow, almost languid, wanting the moment to last.

Everything about her was _beautiful_ , not just her body. And he wanted her to know it. 

He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with his fingers as he nipped the crook of her neck, kissing the mark he left earlier. One hand roamed down her body, following the curve of her waist, before he reached around to squeeze her ass. Her gasp was music to his ears.

They grew impatient again, and Sypha pushed him back down. He let her, loving the way she took control, made him totally at her mercy. Her hands gripped his arms, pinning him with all her slight strength, and she rode him faster until he was gasping her name like a prayer. Sypha’s fingernails dug into his arms, and the slight sting of pain pushed him to climax.

Trevor came inside her with a quiet cry, riding it out as long as he could. He was left breathless and panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Sypha eased herself off him and lay on his chest, kissing him with a tenderness he never thought he’d experience. One arm settled around her waist, the other brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“That was wonderful, Sypha,” he murmured, and she smiled.

“I know I am,” she said, running a thumb over his cheek. “You were pretty good yourself, if you must know.”

A slow grin spread across Trevor’s face. “Imagine how much better I’d be with practice.”

Sypha sat up, a look of surprise on her face. “There is no way that was your first time.”

“Oh, hell, no—I meant practice with you,” Trevor said. He propped himself up on his elbow, lightly touching her shoulder. “If you’d like to do it again, I mean.”

Sypha kissed him, and all felt right with the world. “I would love to,” she murmured, and stood up. “We should clean up before nightfall; I’d hate to be caught with our pants literally down.”

Trevor laughed and stood as well, catching her around the waist for one last kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

Lucian was getting worse. It was as Alucard feared; his father had long since cleaned out the mould cultures in the vats, though the materials he needed to grow a new culture were still all in the lab. Which was a relief, especially since he had no idea where to get citric acid short of tracking down a transmission mirror and making a visit to the tropics.

The worrying part was that even with employing Lucian’s miracles to speed up mould growth, it would still take a week before the first batch was ready, and he had a feeling that she would be needing a lot of it.

It was the third day of her illness, and he could hear her coughing round the clock. Despite his earlier promise, despite his best attempts to keep her fever down with cool cloths, he knew unless he did something to try to slow the infection and ease the fever, she might not have a week. So, willow tea it was. 

Lucian complained, but she drank it dutifully. It did seem to help, a little, but she was always flush with fever, sweat beading on her forehead and cheeks even while she shivered under the covers.

“It really was fortunate you came back,” Alucard said when he arrived in her room with their dinner. Soup again, but he didn’t want to make anything that would be too hard on her stomach, and the salty broth would do her wonders. He’d taken to eating in her room with her when she became too ill to leave the bed so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

And, he supposed, so he wouldn’t have to be alone, either.

A fit of coughing kept her from answering right away, but she gave him a weak grin when it passed. “Could you imagine Trevor and Sypha having to come back and tell you I’d died?”

“Please don’t joke about such things,” Alucard said quietly, and the smile vanished. He sat by her feet and passed her the bowl, noticing how her hands shook when she lifted the spoon.

“Sorry,” Lucian muttered. She shovelled in the soup and closed her eyes, gumming it slowly.

Alucard frowned, sniffing at his own bowl. He was certain it was as good as yesterday’s; he’d been tasting it as he went along. “Do you not like it?”

“Huh?” Her eyes fluttered open again. “No, it’s great, like it always is.”

“You didn’t wiggle. You always wiggle when you enjoy the food.”

Lucian blinked, then grimaced. “No energy,” she said quietly, wrapping her hands around the bowl. She glanced back up at him. “You noticed that?”

“It’s a little hard to miss,” Alucard said dryly. He took a bite, nodding at the stack of books on the bedside table. “You’ve finished those?”

“Fast reader. And I’m _bored_ ,” Lucian said, sighing. The sigh turned into more coughing, and she hastily turned her head away from him.

Alucard frowned. “I’m sorry—I’ll be sure to provide more books tomorrow. Astronomy, still?”

Lucian took another bite; she looked like she was thinking about something. Sheepishly, she said, “Actually, I was hoping you might... read to me?”

He choked on his soup at the unexpected request. “I...”

“No—it’s okay,” Lucian said quickly. “Astronomy would be lovely.”

Alucard set his bowl in his lap. “That... wasn’t me turning you down,” he said, feeling extremely awkward. If nothing else, it would keep him from his endless pacing of the laboratory, checking on the cultures every fifteen minutes save for when he’d come downstairs to swap out the cool washcloth for Lucian and make sure she was still breathing.

Lucian’s face lit up, and the familiar, buck-toothed smile brought him a strange comfort. 

“What would you like me to read?” Alucard asked.

More coughing. “I don’t know—I guess...” Lucian stirred her soup, suddenly looking shy. “Maybe something that you like?”

Now that gave him an idea. “I think I know just the one,” he said.

* * *

The next morning, after a breakfast of porridge in Lucian’s room and a change of bandages, Alucard excused himself to the library, whisking away the books she’d finished and replacing them on their shelves before selecting a handful of others. He paused when he got to the book he’d been thinking of, and a memory came, unbidden: him on his father’s knee, following along with the Aramic as he learned to read the poems.

A happy memory turned dark, turned too sad to share with a dying girl. Even if he never told her the book’s significance, she was still eerily perceptive, and he didn’t want to sour the reading with the attitude he was certain Lucian would pick up on from him.

He instead selected Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_ , deciding she might better prefer something she could understand, and after one last anxious check on the culture (it was getting there; he would try testing it that evening), returned to Lucian’s room.

He could hear the coughing fit as he approached, and Alucard nudged the door open with his hip, crossing the room and setting the books down on the nightstand. Lucian didn’t acknowledge his presence, though he was sure she knew he was there. But the great, wracking coughs that consumed her body made it impossible to do anything else until they subsided.

“Hey,” she croaked, reaching for the honeyed tea he’d brought up with breakfast.

“Hello,” Alucard said. He sat at her feet where he took his meals, showing her the book. “I decided on a collection of Roman mythology. I don’t suppose you’re familiar?”

Lucian shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think the church would approve.”

Alucard smirked. “Imagine that,” he said. “I think you’ll like this one, though. Gods and mortals, magic transformations, vengeance and love.”

“It sounds nice.” Lucian settled in against her nest of pillows, wishing she could lie down properly. Alucard insisted she had to remain propped at least somewhat upright, though, unless she wanted to aspirate her own mucous.

Still, at least this meant she could drink her tea in bed. Even if she hated tea, it did soothe her aching throat. No wonder the other priests complained so much when they got sick; this existence was miserable.

Alucard’s voice was relaxing, though, and she closed her eyes, listening intently to the poetry. He paused whenever she had a coughing fit, which she appreciated. She was soon invested, drawn in by the stories and his voice, and she didn’t want to miss any of it—but she soon found herself beginning to drift off again. 

They broke only for Alucard to replace the washcloth on her head, and she shivered at the cool water on her burning skin. 

“It’s so cold,” she muttered tiredly.

“If your fever gets too high, it could damage your organs.”

Lucian’s teeth chattered as she slumped lower against the pillows. Alucard reached over to take the mug from her hands, setting it on the bedside table before gently tugging her back upright into a safer position, shifting the blanket higher over her shoulders.

“You should rest,” he said, standing up and marking their place in the book. “I could read more this evening, if you like.”

Her eyes were closing again, but she gave a tiny nod. 

Alucard slipped outside and quietly closed the door behind him. He hated to admit it, but he was growing fond of her. It was good she’d come back, and not just for her own sake. She kept him running from his demons. As long as he stayed ahead of the past, it didn’t have to hurt.

* * *

Lucian’s sleep was fitful, and it didn’t last very long before she was woken by more coughing. It sounded wetter than before, her breathing more laboured. It scared her, but she didn’t want to worry Alucard by calling out for him; he’d figure it out quickly enough the next time he came by.

What a way to spend the first few days of her life in a magic castle.

She heard the familiar rush of footsteps outside she’d started associating with Alucard’s vampiric speed, but he always paused for a moment outside her door, like he didn’t want her to know how fast he’d been moving. There was a soft, but frantic, knock, and Lucian sat up a little straighter.

“I’m awake,” she rasped, hating how the words caught in her chest when she couldn’t quite get the air out.

Alucard came in, carefully holding a glass, lidded dish half-full of blueish-white spores, a linen satchel draped over his arm. “We’ve got a viable culture,” he said with a smile, and she sighed in relief, chest rattling. 

The smile vanished and he set the dish and satchel aside. “You sound worse.”

“Feels worse,” she said, hating how her breathing sounded. She nodded at the dish, smiling. “So now you’ve just got to... ferment that, right? I can hold out another week.”

“It won’t be enough to get you through this,” Alucard said, and her heart sank. “But...”

“Always a but,” Lucian said dryly.

“A good but,” Alucard said. “Maybe. It would depend on the extent of your miracles, for one.”

Lucian frowned slightly, wondering where he was going with this. “You mean how much energy I have for more?”

“Partially yes, but also...” Alucard reached into the satchel to produce another, albeit empty, glass dish. He carefully took off the lid. “I’m curious to know if your abilities extend into multiplying.”

“...Oh!” Her gasp turned into more coughing. “I mean, it can’t hurt to try, right?”

Alucard met her eyes. “If it drains your energy so badly you won’t be able to hold out another week? I think it could hurt a lot.”

Lucian waved a weak hand. “It’s either that or die in a week when one batch isn’t enough, right?”

Alucard was silent, looking down at the dishes in his hands.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Lucian said. “I’ve got no way to survive this if we can’t pull this off. Gimme the dish.”

He handed the culture and the empty dish to her. “Be careful not to breathe in the spores,” he said when she opened the lid of the culture. 

“I won’t,” Lucian promised. She flexed her fingers and realised her hands were shaking from fatigue. “Right. Miracles in bed. Should be easy.” She closed her eyes.

The last time she’d pulled something like this off was in the middle of battle and she wasn’t entirely uncertain the adrenaline hadn’t helped. How had that gone, anyway?

Walking on water. Walking on air.

Food. Medicine. Consumed to keep a body alive, healthy. It was a stretch, but she reached for that connection, willing herself to believe it was possible. After all, weren’t all things supposed to be possible through God?

Alucard’s breath hitched, and when she opened her eyes, the second dish was full of spores as well.

“How do you feel?” Alucard asked, watching her for signs of further fatigue.

Lucian shrugged one shoulder. “I haven’t been using my reserves,” she said, and hastily covered her mouth to avoid coughing on the precious spores. Alucard whisked them away at once to replace their lids before she could contaminate them. “I could do more,” she said quickly, glancing at the bag, and Alucard immediately produced a dozen more empty dishes.

Lucian only managed half of them before she was drenched in sweat, and Alucard called a break. “You can finish the rest when you’re feeling up to it,” he said, dabbing at her face with another damp cloth.

There was something intimately tender about the gesture, and Lucian swallowed, studying his face. He was beautiful; not that this particular fact had escaped her before, but there’d always been a sort of coldness to him that kept him aloof, distant. Here—at least in this moment—he was warm.

“Alucard?” she said when he replaced the glass dishes carefully in his bag. “Thank you.”

“I’m doing this as much for my sake as yours,” he said dryly, and vanished out the door, leaving her wondering what, exactly, he’d meant by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to see here, just two dumbasses unable to realise their feelings for each other!


	18. Chapter 18

Sypha and Trevor slept in the back of the wagon again, enjoying much more space now that it was just the two of them. Trevor woke first, and rolled over, draping an arm over Sypha’s waist.

Since the first night, the sex became easier, more frequent, and Trevor couldn’t have been happier Lucian decided to stay behind. He couldn’t imagine this level of bliss with her around.

Not that she wasn’t alright company, but it would definitely be a lot more awkward to actually _have_ sex.

Unless she and Sypha hooked up instead.

Or she hooked up with him.

Or...

The thought went straight to his groin, and he groaned, thinking of Alucard to make the unfortunately-timed erection go away.

For some reason, that just made it _worse_.

“Fuck him,” he muttered, trying to find something sufficiently un-sexy to think about. 

_Not that Alucard was sexy._

The conversation between the inbred goat farmers came to mind, and yep, that did it.

He and Sypha had another long day on the road ahead of them. He did _not_ want to deal with that this early in the morning.

Sypha stirred and snuggled back into his embrace, and he hid a smile against her hair.

“More traveling lonely roads today,” he murmured. “You ready, Speaker?”

“Mmm, five more minutes,” Sypha murmured back. “You’re all nice and warm.” And thus saying, she pressed an icy foot against his leg, cold even through his trousers, and he yelped and jerked away, sitting up.

“You can have five more minutes by yourself,” he said, getting out from under the blanket. “I’ll get the horses ready.”

* * *

“And you’re _certain_ there aren’t any important Speaker customs I should be aware of before we meet them?” Trevor asked, wishing he could fold his arms. He would have, if Sypha didn’t insist on him driving.

“Trevor, I’ve told you a million times, you’ll be fine,” Sypha said. “Besides, even if you did stumble across the one taboo I haven’t thought of, you defeated Dracula! I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”

Trevor glanced sidelong at her. “And you’re _absolutely_ certain—”

Sypha swatted his arm and he laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

One of the horses nickered uneasily. A low growl from the bushes made him sit up immediately and stop the wagon, reaching for the Morning Star. “Did you hear that?”

Sypha nodded, frowning. “Wolves?” she suggested, raising her hands.

Trevor glanced up at the sun, still low on the horizon. He frowned. “It’s too early for night creatures—”

Something black, sleek, and scaly with too many legs and teeth launched itself from the bushes and knocked Trevor off his seat. He landed on the road with a yell, grabbing the monster by the throat as rows of needlelike teeth snapped inches from his face. He kneed it in the stomach, but all that did was make it snarl and redouble its efforts to rip out his throat.

“Sypha, watch out!” he yelled. Sypha’s conjured icicles spun in midair and launched at two more of the beasts an instant before they could attack her, impaling them through the torsos and pinning them to the trees.

“Trevor!”

Another icicle pierced the skull of the night creature that was on him, and Trevor felt it go limp. He pushed its corpse off of him and jumped to his feet, readying the Morning Star as he strained his ears, turning on the spot as he tried to find any signs of another attack.

“What the fuck are night creatures doing out this early?” he murmured, finally allowing himself to relax—if only slightly. 

Sypha let her icicles disappear as she tried to soothe the rearing horses. They hadn’t bolted, which was lucky for them, but Trevor was not looking forward to finding out what chasing down an out-of-control wagon was like. They’d always stopped to make camp well before nightfall, but if the beasts were coming out during the daytime… he didn’t want to think about what that meant for their travel plans.

“The night creatures are growing bolder,” Sypha said, climbing out of the wagon to drag one of the corpses out of the way so they could continue on. “I’ve never heard of them coming out so early in the evening. You don’t think, now that Dracula is dead…?”

“Alucard recognised at least one Devil Forgemaster in the castle,” Trevor said darkly, pulling another corpse out of the way before climbing into the driver’s seat. “And we never found anybody else in the castle in the days we spent there. There’s no telling how many forgemasters are out there who want to kill us.”

Sypha hummed as Trevor helped her back into the seat before urging the horses to move again. “If they’re coming out this early, there’s also no telling how much longer it will be until even the daylight hours are no longer safe.”

Trevor grunted. “Do you think we should continue or find someplace safe, then?” he asked, though he didn’t yet slow the horses. “We could be travelling straight into another pack of night creatures if we go on.”

Sypha considered it for a moment. “We should go until it’s dark,” she said decisively. “So far these are the only night creatures we’ve encountered out during the day; let’s assume as such until further notice.”

“Still, it’s concerning,” Trevor said as he kept the horses on track. “I mean, they’re called _night_ creatures, not evening creatures.”

Sypha laughed, despite herself. “This is true,” she said, though she felt a knot of fear forming in her stomach. “If this _is_ some new strange breed of demon built by vengeful forgemasters, I can’t imagine they are very numerous as of yet.”

_I hope_ were the unspoken words that passed between them. Sypha wished they were back at the Belmont hold, where she could read up on variations produced by Devil Forgemasters, on the night creatures as a whole, but here they were out on the road, exposed, vulnerable, with only her stories and Trevor’s expertise to go off of.

She’d never _not_ known something before—not something as important as this, anyway. And it terrified her.

“Trevor?” she asked quietly after several minutes on the road.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever heard of anything like this? In your families’ stories, maybe—or legends passed down that weren’t—”

Trevor sighed. “We didn’t keep oral records like your people did,” he said, fingers curling around the reins even as he made a conscious effort not to pull back and slow the horses. “Anything the Belmonts recorded would have been pen and ink—committed to parchment so we can pass the knowledge down to our descendants.”

“And not in a language you understand,” Sypha guessed. 

Trevor lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe not. We didn’t exactly get the time to check the records before we left.”

Sypha sat up straighter, folding her arms and scoffing. “Excuse me? You were the one who wanted to move on!”

Trevor didn’t bother to so much as shoot a look over his shoulder at her. Sypha almost wished he would.

“Okay,” Sypha said, deciding to press the issue. “Night creatures becoming active in the early evening. Have you ever heard of that?”

“Oh, plenty of times,” Trevor muttered. “Just not nearly so numerous, and definitely not in recent times. Whatever Devil Forgemaster is out there working their magic—they’re powerful.”

Sypha bit her lip, leaning against the seat while she thought. “Perhaps it would be safer to stop here, then?”

Trevor drew back on the reins and nodded. “Most likely.”

Dinner without a fire was a less than happy experience, but Trevor and Sypha downed their salted meat without complaint, bundled in the back of the wagon together to guard against the chill. 

“We should reach Arges tomorrow,” Trevor spoke into the silence. “I doubt we’ll find your caravan there but I’ll bet somebody can point us in the direction they went.”

“Maybe we could find a bed for the night as well,” Sypha said, grinning at the sudden flush of colour to Trevor’s cheeks. “Lots of things you can do with a bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Trevor, you disaster.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the backlog I had, so future chapters will probably not be daily updates like it has been until now. Hope you can bear with me!
> 
> Enjoy a long chapter to make up for it. :) Another warning for some more medical grossness.

Day nine of the illness. The fermentation was coming along well, and tomorrow Alucard would be able to extract the results and hopefully start getting Lucian back on her feet.

They’d taken to reading together in the afternoons and evenings, Lucian inviting Alucard to lay on the bed next to her while he read. At first he protested, saying he was perfectly comfortable to remain sitting on the edge of the bed, but then he saw the silent plea in her eyes and realised how frightened she was by her predicament. 

So he indulged her, at first keeping a respectful distance from her. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but soon he was letting her curl against his side while he read, an arm around her shoulders. He wasn’t worried about getting sick himself—his unique physiology wouldn’t allow it.

When Lucian breathed, it was always with an awful rattle, and her coughing brought up so much mucous he had to keep a basin beside her to spit into, lest she keep swallowing it down only to throw it back up. Her fever was at its peak, and for some hours she was so delirious she could only mumble in her sleep, tossing fitfully. At one point, in desperation he drew a bath of tepid water and carried her to the washroom, carefully lowering her into the tub and staying by her side until the fever lowered enough she was lucid again.

“...Why am I wearing my nightshirt in the bathtub?” she rasped, looking down at herself, and he couldn’t help but laugh in relief to hear her back with him.

“I’ll get you a dry one,” he said. He disappeared to her room and returned a second later with a fresh nightshirt, which he hung up next to the towel. “Do you need help getting out?”

Lucian paused and began coughing, thumping herself on the chest in a desperate bid to clear her lungs. “I’m... fine,” she finally said, though she sounded uncertain. “...I’m not fine. Yes, please.”

Alucard held out his hand, letting her use him for support to climb from the tub. “I’ll be just outside if you need me,” he said, and stepped out the door to give her some privacy.

Shakily, Lucian stripped off the sodden nightshirt, letting it fall to the floor with a wet splat. She wrapped the towel around herself, realised her bandages were now soaking wet and in need of changing, and called out “Alucard?” before remembering she was wearing nothing but a towel.

He checked back in and very quickly focused on her face. 

“My, um...” She indicated the wet bandages. “...Might be easier to do in the towel.”

“Of course.” 

She let out a soft sigh when he vanished to her bedroom again, where he’d taken to keeping clean bandages. He’d been nothing but thoughtful towards her despite maintaining his air of detached aloofness, going so far as to provide her with wide-necked nightshirts that were easy for her to slip one arm out of for ease of re-bandaging.

Dare she say it, but she thought he might have been warming up to her, even though she’d been nothing but a burden to him since deciding to stay. She had an inkling of why.

Alucard carefully peeled the bandages from her arm, and she glanced down—and instantly regretted it.

Several of the boils had finally popped, and a thick, yellowish-white pus dribbled down her shoulder from the puncture marks. She stifled a gag and closed her eyes, but Alucard wiped it up with a clean cloth before beginning to re-bandage. 

“It looks foul, but this is good,” he said. “I won’t have to lance these to keep them from becoming problematic. And you haven’t developed any new ones since the day before yesterday.” He tied off the bandage and stepped outside again to let her dress.

“How long—?” She was cut off by yet more of that damn coughing. “How long after the medicine is ready will it take for me to get better?”

“It’s hard to say.” Alucard’s voice was slightly muffled by the door. “The fever should be gone within a week, but it could take six months to fully recover.”

“Oh, _fuck_ that,” Lucian complained—and coughed again. Alucard knocked on the door, and she wheezed out a “Come in.”

He wordlessly offered her his arm, and Lucian took it, walking unsteadily back to her bedroom with him.

“I wanted to come back to keep you company and instead you got stuck playing nursemaid. The _one_ human in the world who can’t physically get sick, getting sick,” she complained as he helped her get settled back into bed. She was already shivering from being out from under the thick downy quilts.

Alucard’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “You have to admit, there’s a certain sort of irony to be had, there.”

She coughed and gestured at her injured arm. “You think once this is cleared up I could just—” She snapped her fingers. “Fix my lungs?”

At this, he looked thoughtful. “It _is_ possible that once whatever my father did to you—” His lip curled, showing a fang. “—is healed, that will stop whatever is preventing you from healing yourself.”

“Well, if it won’t, then I’ll just have to find a way to rewrite the laws of reality,” Lucian said stubbornly, and Alucard laughed.

“If you manage to do that, I would be _very_ impressed,” he said, settling onto the bed beside her. He picked up Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_ again, turning to where they’d left off. His arm settled around Lucian’s shoulders and she leaned into him with a contented sigh.

He read, glancing over occasionally at Lucian whenever she started coughing, and eventually closed the book when he realised she was getting feverish again. Another cool cloth to the forehead and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh, Enache,” he murmured. “I know this is Hell for you, but just your being here is more than enough for me. You’ve kept me sane, believe it or not.”

Lucian’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he thought she’d heard, embarrassment flooding him. But Lucian just lifted a shaking hand to run her fingers through his hair, and he stilled at the touch.

“Always wanted to braid your hair,” she mumbled, smiling dazedly. “You got real pretty hair.”

“Mother always did like my hair,” he murmured, watching her eyes close again. She’d sleep for the next couple of hours, at least until her next coughing fit.

He smirked as he got up, leaving her to her rest. It would be fun to tease her about this when she woke up.

* * *

“So, Lucian,” Alucard said, smiling unusually broadly when he presented her with her supper, “I was somewhat reliably informed by none other than yourself that you like my hair.”

It was a good thing he was ready to catch her bowl when she nearly upended it on herself.

He saw from the way her eyes flickered that she was considering denying it, but then she sighed, hanging her head. “...Yes,” she muttered, and spooned up a mortified mouthful of soup.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he drawled. “I think even Belmont is jealous of it, and you know how well he and I get along.”

Lucian swallowed, coughed, and cleared her throat. “You know, for two people who claim to hate each other so much, you talk about him an awful lot.” She just smiled innocently when Alucard fixed her with a glower. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before,” she added, going back to her soup.

Alucard waved a hand. “I wouldn’t get used to it. I’d be worried my face would freeze like that, and then what would that do to my reputation as a fearsome vampire?”

“So what you’re saying is, I should never speak of the time the fearsome vampire nursed a sick priest back to health?”

“Precisely. Or, if you were serious about your fever-confessed desire,” Alucard said, and pulled a hair tie from his pocket. “That the fearsome vampire let the sick priest braid his hair.”

“Oh, God,” Lucian said, burying her face in her hands. “I actually said I—”

“There is a good chance you could be infirm for the next half a year,” Alucard said, pulling one of her hands away and pressing the hair tie into it. “Who am I to deny the wishes of my patient and friend?”

Lucian had to bury her face against her sleeve to muffle her coughing, but she was grinning broadly when she looked up. “Beneath that stoic exterior you’re really just a big softie, aren’t you?”

Alucard sighed. “Please don’t make me change my mind.” He paused. “And you may absolutely not tell Belmont.”

“You have my word,” Lucian said solemnly, holding up her right hand. After a moment, she cracked open an eye, grinned, and set the hair tie aside before digging into her soup. “So is this a one-time offer or just something that will last until I’m better?”

“Considering you swore an oath to warp reality to get well sooner and I fear you may change your mind if otherwise tempted—it’s just for tonight,” Alucard said, very firmly.

“Deal.”

They finished their soup, and Alucard stacked the bowls for Lucian before sitting within her reach, turning his back to her. He stiffened briefly at her touch, and then relaxed at the sensation of her gentle fingers combing through his hair, separating it out into sections, running over his scalp as she began a tight weave near his temple.

He was surprised; he’d expected a simple plait at best, but it felt like she was working something much more elaborate.

“Where did you learn to do this?” he asked. “Certainly not on your own hair.”

“Mama,” Lucian said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “She let me practice on her when I was allowed to visit—she said if I was ever able to strike out on my own, I should know how to do it if I ever wanted to grow my hair out.”

“Do you?”

Lucian was silent while she considered the question, broken only by a fit of coughing she turned away from him for. “I don’t know,” she said at long last. “I might… sound like a woman, but I don’t _look_ like one, and I doubt long hair would change that.”

Alucard had to resist the urge to twist around to look at her; she’d only get annoyed with him. “I don’t think anyone could see you in that gown and mistake you for anything else.”

Lucian sighed and tied off the first plait to hold it; he was almost sorry when she let go of his hair, but then she was working the hair at his other temple and he stifled a sigh. “You’ve seen my body, redressing my wounds,” she said bluntly, shifting on the bed behind him to make herself more comfortable.

He could feel his face heating up, and he cleared his throat. “I didn’t look, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. He felt Lucian shake her head behind him.

“I know you wouldn’t,” she said, finishing off the second plait. “But you’d still have seen. This…” Alucard turned to look at her, and she put her hands on her chest, where her breasts should be. “I just never seemed to grow up, even if I got _bigger._ ” Her hands dropped and she doubled over, coughing.

Alucard _hmm_ ed, turning that over in his mind. He sat up a little straighter when she resumed braiding the crown of his head. “I could consult some of my father’s medical texts, if you’d like,” he said. “But I do agree, your condition is… unusual. I’m sure I could find the answer if I looked. I, ah.” He cleared his throat again, acutely aware of how _hot_ he felt. “I did note a few irregularities in your... physique. If nothing else, it would be a good distraction from the waiting to research what might be the cause.”

“So I’m your science project, now?” Lucian teased, and quickly turned away to cough before starting to weave the plaits together, her fingers deft.

Alucard rolled his eyes. “Yes, I only care about your value as a specimen,” he deadpanned.

She tied off the braid, and he felt her hands reluctantly drop. “What would you need to… examine?” she said, and Alucard shrugged, turning to look at her.

“I would need a sample of your blood,” he said, and sighed when she went wide-eyed. “Not to _taste_ ,” he said impatiently. “To examine with a—certain instrument. I would be able to see what your blood contains, and that might hold the answers as to why you are the way you are.”

“Is this one of those doctor things?” Lucian asked, and Alucard let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. 

“Yes,” he said. “Father accumulated a whole trove of knowledge that humans couldn’t pass down and later lost. He taught them to Mother, but she was just one of many brilliant minds who had no other methods of learning.”

“If we just had a way to create books faster,” Lucian murmured. “Scribes are well and good, but they take too long and can’t produce at a rate needed to educate the population…”

Alucard put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched before she looked up at him.

“One thing at a time,” he said, and smiled faintly. He turned to look at his reflection in the full-length mirror against the wall, mildly surprised at the warrior-like braids she’d chosen for him. “...Like possibly reconsidering the braiding arrangement.”

Lucian’s face was flushed from fever, but from the way her eyes crinkled up when she smiled, he knew she’d be blushing if she could.

* * *

Lucian looked nervous when he returned with the necessary equipment, but after Alucard reassured her he would use a clean needle and not his fangs, she relaxed significantly. He washed his hands in the basin before setting out the necessary things: sterile needle, syringe, iodine, gauze.

“Roll up your sleeve for me?” Alucard said, examining another one of those familiar glass dishes.

“Does it matter which one?” Lucian asked, breaking into more coughing.

_“_ It does not,” he said, and she pushed up the left sleeve of her nightshirt. He indicated her arm. “May I?”

Lucian held out her arm and he took it gently, noticing she was trembling slightly in his fingers. “This will just feel like a sharp sting, and then it’ll be over,” he said, wiping down the area with iodine.

Lucian turned her head away and closed her eyes when he stuck her, and she winced. 

“Honestly, you wouldn’t last a day in battle,” Alucard teased, drawing the syringe. 

“Hey, come on,” Lucian protested. “I got knocked around just as much as the rest of you.”

“Perhaps our first combat lesson after your recovery should focus on dodging, then,” Alucard said. He withdrew the needle, and Lucian allowed herself to look again when he pressed a small square of gauze over the crook of her elbow. She caught his hand in hers, covering it and keeping it in place.

Their eyes met, green and gold and both wistful. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Lucian wondered how he would react if she kissed him.

“Alucard, I…” Lucian began, before letting her hand drop. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Believe me, it’s as much for my sake as it is yours,” he said—not for the first time, and she felt she was starting to understand what he meant by that. He was running from the past, using her as a way to distract himself _._

She was okay with that. It kept both of them sane.

He took the syringe over to the sample dish. “I need to take my mind off things right now and this seems like as good a way to do it as any.”

“Was there anything else you needed?” Lucian asked. Alucard shook his head, and she tugged the sleeve of her nightshirt back down before pulling her book back to her.

“I’ll be in the lab,” Alucard said, heading to the door. She smiled after him, but the smile fell when the door closed behind him.

What if he found something that meant she was just _wrong?_

* * *

The sun was creeping below the horizon and Lucian had just finished her book on ancient civilisations when Alucard returned, carrying a large stack of books in his arms.

“Did you find anything?” Lucian asked, trying to get a look at the titles when he set the books down on the bedside table. Most of them were Latin, a few in Classical Greek—anatomy and physiology books, it looked like.

“I _think_ so,” Alucard said, sitting down at her feet with that infuriating grace. “How much do you know about genetics?”

Lucian shrugged. “Not much. I remember a biology book you brought for me that mentioned how physical traits are passed down from parents, but that’s about it.”

“Right. Well, there are certain… bundles of information stored in your body,” Alucard said. “If cells make up your body, there are these bundles that make up the cells. Ah—here.” He picked up one of the books on the stack and thumbed through it before finding the page he wanted, and passed it to her.

Lucian groaned when she saw the language. “You _know_ my Greek is rusty,” she complained.

“The practice is good for you,” Alucard said, unconcerned. Lucian grumbled at him, but settled into the cushions, tongue poking out from between her teeth as she concentrated.

Alucard tried not to listen to her intermittent coughing, but he kept glancing back at her as she read. Every so often, she’d suck air in through her teeth, or give a slight twitch of the head, or drum her fingers on the book before refocusing, and he smiled. He wasn’t sure the cause for her tics (though he was intensely curious as to the reason); all he knew was the more bored she was, the more she ticced. And right now, she seemed in higher spirits despite her worsening condition, which was good. 

Lucian finally set the book down, rubbing her eyes. “Damn Parthians,” she muttered. 

“Be glad they didn’t write it in Aramic,” Alucard said wryly, crossing his legs.

“I’d just get you to translate for me,” Lucian said. More coughing. She sat up a little higher, hands jittering. “So you were able to see those things in my blood?”

“With a powerful focusing lens, yes,” Alucard said. He thumbed idly through another book. “You have a rather unusual variation.”

“Don’t do that dramatic thing where you pause and make me ask what,” Lucian said. 

Alucard rolled his eyes at her. “One of your pairs—the ones that determine male or female—is male.”

Lucian sat in silence for a long moment, broken only by her coughing; Alucard focused on his book, waiting for her to speak. At long last she sighed. “I guess I should have known,” she muttered. “Not feeling entirely like a girl…”

Alucard shook his head. “That might not necessarily be related,” he said, making a mental note of what she’d said. _Interesting_. “Though we’re getting off-track.” He fixed his piercing gaze on her. “You realise this means you won’t be able to have children.”

“Oh,” Lucian said.

He tilted his head. “You don’t seem upset by this.”

“Considering I sometimes woke up in a cold sweat after nightmares of getting pregnant and being discovered? Nah,” Lucian said. “Besides, could you imagine trying to raise children in this world?” She sighed, gnawing on her lip in thought. “Wonder if Sypha and Trevor’ll have any little ones in tow when they come back.”

Alucard’s eyebrows flew up at that. “ _Them?_ God, for any hypothetical children of that drunkard’s, I hope not.”

“ _Alucard!_ ”

“Can you imagine Belmont rearing spawn? They’d turn out even worse than him.”

“Oh Goddammit, not this again,” Lucian muttered.

Alucard’s smirk became more pronounced. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain now, are we?”

“Just because I believe in a God doesn’t mean I have to respect Him,” Lucian sniffed. 

“Whatever would the rest of the priests say?”

“All sorts of lovely and flattering things, I’m sure—” Another fit of coughing, and this time he could smell it—blood on her sleeve when she pulled her arm away from her mouth. She stared mutely at the red droplets staining the white fabric for a long moment before looking up at a horrified Alucard. “Like right now they’d probably say I’m being punished for abandoning the church—” she tried to joke.

“Don’t say that,” Alucard snapped. “I’ll be able to start your treatment tomorrow. God has nothing to do with this.”

Lucian coughed again, more droplets of blood splattering her sleeve. “Let’s just hope it’ll work in time.”


	20. Chapter 20

Chilia. The Speakers had moved on to Chilia.

It had taken them nearly a week and a half just to reach Arges, and the Speakers had another week’s head start on them. Sypha wasn’t one to despair, but she definitely felt her spirits sink lower when the surviving townsfolk gave them the news.

Under Dracula’s armies, Arges had been reduced to a shell of its former self. Sypha had been several times as a child, and the rubble and stench of death was so far from the grand, soaring buildings she remembered. She sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair off her face.

“Are you alright?” Trevor asked. They sat in the back of the wagon outside the mostly-still-intact inn, legs dangling while they considered their next move.

Sypha lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m both surprised, and not, that they didn’t decide to stay here. Help the people to rebuild.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling they were given similar treatment to what you faced in Gresit,” Trevor muttered, and Sypha sighed.

“Just once, it would be nice to know what it feels like to be welcomed someplace with open arms,” she murmured. “Still—with just the two of us, we’ll travel faster than an entire caravan. Maybe we’ll… catch up to them sooner than expected.”

Trevor grunted and dug into the purse of coins Alucard had given them. He snorted when he saw the dates stamped on them, ranging from as far back as the late thirteen hundreds. “Hey, Sypha—check this out.”

Sypha examined the coin he passed her and laughed. “I do hope that the inn will take the money.”

“Why not? Gold’s still gold,” Trevor said. He tucked the purse safely out of harm’s way and slid out of the wagon, turning to offer his hand to Sypha. She took it, grinning, and he caught her around the waist when she slid out after him. He spun her around once before setting her on her feet.

After unhitching the horses and rubbing them down in the stables, they headed inside. The pub on the ground floor had none of the usual chatter; ever since Dracula started his war on humankind, the patrons in taverns across Wallachia came not to enjoy an evening with company and laughter, but to drown their sorrows.

Trevor could respect that. 

Sypha went to find them a table while he paid for food and a room for the night, and returned to her with two bowls of thick pork and potato stew, each with a hunk of bread sitting on top of the broth. The bowls were balanced in one hand while a large tankard of cheap beer was in the other, and Sypha wrinkled her nose when she saw it.

“Must you?” she asked, watching Trevor gulp down the alcohol.

“I didn’t hear you complaining about Lucian’s smoking habits,” Trevor said when he lowered the mug. He held it out to Sypha. “Go on, you might even like it.”

Sypha hesitated, but then she saw his eyebrows quirk in the faintest of challenges, and she pursed her lips before taking the tankard from him and sipping at the foam.

“Really taste it,” Trevor said, and Sypha did, tipping her head back. The sting of alcohol hit her throat and she coughed, hastily setting the mug back down. 

It was intensely hoppy, and nowhere near good quality, but as Sypha smacked her lips together, she considered the aftertaste, which was strangely pleasantly bitter.

“...Okay, I think I can _almost_ see the appeal,” she said, and tucked into her food.

Trevor shrugged and finally set his drink aside to start on his own meal. “You get used to it,” he said. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

Trevor nudged the mug back to Sypha, at which she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re sharing your precious beer with me?” she teased.

“I can always get another,” Trevor pointed out.

Sypha lifted the mug to hide her smile. He really was a far cry from the defeated man she’d met… oh, it must have been two weeks ago now.

And here she was, traveling with him, fighting alongside him… and sharing a bed with him. She hastily set the mug down and returned to her food, though she kept casting glances at Trevor, nudging his leg under the table with her foot. 

He grinned at her around his food, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to; Sypha could see the excitement in his eyes. The back of the wagon was one thing, but a real bed would be a first for them.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

* * *

They tumbled into the bed, naked and flush with arousal, and Sypha found herself pinned under Trevor. He trapped one of her wrists above her head with one hand, the other tracing its way over her ribs and hips before sliding between her legs to find her already slick.

“Excited, are we?” Trevor murmured, his breath hot on her ear. Sypha hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Trevor Belmont, I want you to leave me unable to sit comfortably tomorrow.” Sypha raked her fingernails down his back and he groaned, fingers stuttering in their rhythm. Even when he was on top, she was the one in control, and they both knew it.

Trevor laughed softly when she turned her head to nip at his wrist, only to gasp when he added a second finger, stroking her inner walls.

“ _More_ ,” Sypha managed to say, and Trevor increased the pace. Sypha’s legs quivered and she lifted her hips, rocking in time with his thrusts. She struggled against Trevor’s hand before giving him a sharp nip on the wrist, and he let go; Sypha used her newfound freedom to grab a handful of his hair and pull his face to hers in a desperate kiss, panting against his mouth.

The fingers vanished and Trevor drew back; Sypha lifted her head and saw him sheepishly flexing his wrist, slick dripping from between his fingers.

“Bit much,” he said apologetically, but Sypha laughed and pushed him down onto the mattress, showering his cheeks and nose with kisses.

“It’s _fine_ , Treffie,” she said, and kissed his lips. She could taste the beer and stew, and somehow it just felt like Trevor. A bit crude, but familiar and good. Her tongue traced along his lower lip, and when his mouth opened, her tongue slipped inside to caress his. 

They had been no stranger to kissing the first time, but the more nights they spent together, the more they learned about each other. What the other liked, where to touch, where to kiss and lick and scratch.

One of Trevor’s calloused hands held the back of her head, tangling in her hair, and the other settled at her waist, squeezing her hip. He ran his tongue over her teeth, gently, always gently, and Sypha cupped his face, holding him there while he explored her mouth.

When she drew back, Trevor blinked up at her amusedly. “You’re not on about that Treffie thing again, are you?”

“Mmm…” Sypha pretended to think about it as she dipped her fingers to her slit, absently pleasuring herself while Trevor watched. She gave him a slow smile. “Depends on what you plan to do about it.”

Trevor let his head fall back with a soft groan, knowing he was defeated before he could even start. “ _Fuck_. Sypha, I plan on letting you do whatever the hell you want.”

“ _Interesting_.” Sypha withdrew her fingers, slippery with her own arousal, and wrapped a firm hand around the base of Trevor’s cock. 

The low moan she elicited from him was music to her ears, and she began to stroke, a slow, even motion that soon had Trevor thrusting up into her hand before she put her other on his hip. 

“No, you stay still,” Sypha purred, and deliberately slowed the pace.

“You’re just being _mean_ now,” Trevor managed before he was cut off by a gasp. Sypha rolled her thumb over the head of his dick, almost languidly, watching his reaction.

Trevor might protest, but he loved it when she teased him to the edge. He wanted her to cut to the chase and take him inside her—and yet, the ecstasy she was drawing out of him was too good to stop just yet.

“Sypha— _fuck_ —” 

Her hands vanished, and Trevor was about to protest when she was throwing a leg over his stomach so she was lying on his stomach, and her mouth closed around his aching erection. 

This left him with the perfect view of her ass—firm muscles from a lifetime of walking, and Trevor’s fingers dug into the backs of her thighs when Sypha did _something_ with her tongue that left him quivering beneath her.

His hands slid up to squeeze her backside, and Sypha’s knees tightened on either side of his ribs. She hummed around his cock, teeth scraping lightly as she sucked and licked along his length.

Fuck, but at the rate she was going, she’d be the one leaving _him_ unable to sit properly tomorrow, and he couldn’t have that.

“Here,” he said, fingers trailing over the small of her back. Sypha shivered and let go, and after an awkward pause to shuffle around and shift positions, she was on her hands and knees in front of him.

“I could get used to this sight,” Trevor murmured, pressing a kiss to her bottom before wrapping his arms around her, hands running over her stomach and breasts. Sypha caught one of his hands and pressed it harder against one breast, and Trevor increased the pressure, loving the soft whimpers that resulted.

“Well?” Sypha said breathlessly. “Don’t you know better than to keep a lady waiting?”

Trevor would never get used to that voice of hers. He gripped his cock and lined the head up with her entrance; before he could slide in the rest of the way, Sypha pushed back, and he was treated to the sight of him disappearing into her.

He began to thrust into her, baring his teeth in a grin. “Getting impatient there?”

“Pull my hair,” was all Sypha was able to get out before Trevor’s fingers were knotting in her fiery hair, tugging her head back. His other hand found her clit, and Sypha let out a strangled cry before muffling herself.

“Just—just like that,” she gasped.

He kept the rhythm on her clit as steady as he could, but increased the pace of his thrusts, harder until Sypha was telling him _there_ was good, and he adjusted his grip on her hair, fingers urging her to climax. 

She clenched around him and he shuddered when she called his name, letting go of her hair to hold her hips steady while he drove into her.

“Don’t stop,” Sypha panted, and Trevor couldn’t hold out any longer. He thrust their hips together, fingernails digging into her skin as he grit his teeth, biting down the cry that threatened to rip from him.

They remained together for a moment, both trembling, before Trevor carefully slid out of Sypha. He sat back on his haunches, and Sypha turned to sit astride his lap, arms and legs wrapping around him, holding him close.

She buried her face in his hair, enjoying his familiar musky smell. “Not bad, Treffie.”

“Not bad?” Trevor said, mock-indignant. His fingers trailed up and down her spine, and he smiled when he felt her shiver under his touch. “I thought that would at least be considered halfway decent.”

Sypha laughed and kissed him, and he kissed her back, tilting his head so she’d have a better angle for it.

“Let’s go with adequate, then,” Sypha said when they broke apart, and he chuckled. “I _think_ I might just need a second round to truly determine how good it was, however. And quite possibly a third.”

Trevor’s eyes widened slightly, but he lay down, Sypha shifting so her limbs wouldn’t end up trapped under his back. It was a familiar position by now, the two of them naked, her lying draped on his chest, and his hands settled around her waist. He stole another kiss from her while he considered.

“You’ll have to give me some time to recover from the first,” he said, and Sypha smiled broadly. “Because you were _definitely_ better than ‘adequate’.”

Sypha nestled down on his chest, folding her arms and pillowing her chin on them. “Oh, very well,” she said, eyes sparkling. “You were more than adequate as well.”

“No, you’re right,” Trevor said, sighing dramatically. “I really should give you another opportunity to really make your decision. It’s a difficult task, to be sure, but—”

Sypha shoved a hand over his mouth before leaning in, replacing her hand with her mouth to silence him. Not that he was complaining.

“Better make this one count, then,” Sypha said, and rolled them over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yep. He's whipped. :P


	21. Chapter 21

Lucian woke slowly, and when she sat up, still groggy and smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she realised Alucard was in the bed next to her, splayed on top of the blankets with _The Iliad_ open across his lap where it had fallen. 

His mouth was open just enough she could see the barest hint of his fangs; really, she thought, carefully retrieving the book so as not to wake him, it was the most at peace she’d ever seen him.

She didn’t recall him dropping off before her, but then again, she supposed they could have fallen asleep at near the same time. Well, at least she now had something to tease _him_ about; maybe he’d let up about her feverish confession of her desire to braid his hair.

Lucian glanced at the book, decided she would rather hear it from Alucard than read ahead, and marked their place before setting it aside and climbing out of bed with a soft groan and a stifled cough.

Whatever it was about this mould, it seemed to be working. The angry rash was starting to recede from her injuries, which finally seemed to be on the mend. 

Despite her best efforts, she began coughing uncontrollably, lunging for the handkerchief on the bedside table. Blood splattered against the cloth, and Alucard sat up, looking around in momentary confusion before realising where he was and coming around the bed to put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

He waited until she was done coughing before wordlessly holding out a hand; Lucian passed over the handkerchief, and Alucard examined the droplets.

“Still minimal. Not ideal, but it could be worse.” He folded the handkerchief and glanced at her. “I apologise; I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed.”

Lucian waved a hand. “If you were _that_ tired, you probably needed it,” she said, and yawned hugely herself, air rattling in her chest as she tried to ignore the shallow, stabbing pains. “When did you last sleep?”

“...Two days ago,” Alucard admitted, and now that she looked, she could see dark circles under his eyes. 

“What?” Lucian gasped, and began coughing again, snatching up another handkerchief. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Alucard said when the fit passed. “I’ve been finding that without tasks to keep my hands occupied, my mind tends to wander.”

He didn’t need to say to what. Lucian nodded. “Still, you’ve got to sleep sometime. Wait, is this a dhampir thing—?”

“It’s not.” Alucard studied her for a moment. Her fever was still there, but it was no longer dangerously high, and she _had_ been stuck in her room for nearly two weeks. But she was no longer on strict bedrest, just orders to take it easy… 

“Everything okay?” Lucian’s voice startled him out of his reverie.

Alucard re-focused on her. “Everything is fine,” he said. “Actually, I was thinking you might wish to accompany me to the hold today?”

Lucian’s eyebrows flew up at that. “So I’m allowed out of my room now? I’m no longer your prisoner?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Alucard said, rolling his eyes. 

“Hey, I almost _died_ , I’m allowed to be dramatic.” Lucian went to the wardrobe and threw open the doors, thumbing through tunics and leggings before settling on black leggings and a heavier wool tunic, dyed a rich, mossy green. “What’s down in the hold you wanted to show me?”

“Who says there’s anything to show?” The note of amusement in his voice didn’t go past her.

Lucian tossed the clothing on the bed before slipping her arm out of the neck of her nightshirt, heading back to Alucard so he could change the dressings.

“Well,” she said, watching his fingers set to work, “you wouldn’t be inviting me to leave the room if there wasn’t something you wanted to show me.”

Alucard chuckled and inclined his head. “You’re right—I drew up the plans and began working on them while you slept.”

“And you didn’t,” Lucian pointed out.

“I had more important things to do.” Alucard peeled the last bandage away and smiled.

The angry rash had faded, the last of the boils gone. The pockmarks remained, though, surrounding the four evenly-spaced puncture scars, which were still bruised and purple.

Lucian turned her head away from him to cough again. “That looks pretty good, huh?”

“Most certainly.” Alucard ran a careful thumb over her clavicle, and goosebumps sprang up where he touched. “I think you’ll be fine to go without the bandages now, actually.”

“I’d be bouncing up and down right now if I could,” Lucian said, and carefully rotated her arm. She bit back a hiss of pain, and Alucard caught her arm before she could move it further.

“I don’t know how deep those injuries go,” he said, releasing her, “but let’s not test your recovery by damaging your muscles further.”

Lucian grimaced, but nodded. “Right. I’m gonna get changed, do you mind?”

“I’ll bring you your medicine,” Alucard said, and vanished out the door.

Lucian quickly divested herself of the nightshirt, running her fingers over the marks Dracula had left on her. She concentrated, but still couldn’t manage to heal it, and she sighed before pulling on the clothes. They felt almost foreign after… how long had it been, now? Two weeks? Three? The days all just blended together for her.

She buckled on a wide leather belt and had just slipped her feet into their boots when Alucard returned with the wine mixture for her. Her shoulders sagged, but she took the cup, held her breath, and gulped it down as quickly as possible, coughing when she’d finished.

Alucard set the cup aside and offered her his arm; she wanted to snap at him that she wasn’t the invalid she’d been, but… it _would_ be nice to have him close. So she looped her arm loosely through his and they set off through the castle, at a slower pace than she would normally like but was forced to admit it was all she could manage at the moment. She didn’t need to use him like a crutch anymore, which was an improvement.

The first breath of fresh air and the sunlight kissing her skin was like being reborn.

“I never thought I’d miss being outside this much,” Lucian groaned, tilting her face up to the sun’s rays and closing her eyes. 

“We’ll have to come out more frequently now that you’re well enough to do so,” Alucard said as they crossed the stretch of land between the castle and the hold. “Do you think you can manage to get down on your own, or do I need to carry you?” he added when they reached the edge of the gaping hole the night creatures had smashed open.

Lucian let go of his arm and stubbornly strode out over open air, turning to cross her arms and stare defiantly at Alucard as she simply sank down into the hold.

“That’s new,” Alucard remarked, drifting down after her. His hair streamed out behind him, and Lucian was certain that she must have looked ridiculous by comparison.

“Hey, I had a lot of time to think in bed,” she said—and found herself falling when she was interrupted by another coughing fit. Alucard caught her around the waist just when she was able to stop herself in midair, and they remained pressed together for a moment before Alucard offered her the handkerchief he’d taken earlier.

“You have blood on your lips,” he said, letting go and stepping away.

Lucian dabbed at her mouth with a grimace. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“The blood?” Alucard studied her for a second before deciding to be honest. She’d just call him out if he wasn’t, anyway. “I’ll admit it smells… very good, but it doesn’t _tempt_ me.”

Lucian gave him that damn grin of hers. “You think I smell good?”

“Of course, _that_ would be what you would take away from this,” Alucard said as they descended further.

“What do you mean, _of course_?” Lucian asked, alighting on the floor.

Alucard didn’t deign to answer, instead crossing to the repaired door that led to the library. Lucian trailed after him, watching curiously as he pulled a lever she was certain hadn’t been there before.

The lanterns lit up, not with the orange glow of fire, but a colder white light that looked like—

“Is that _electricity?_ ” Lucian asked, wide-eyed. Alucard had explained to her how the lanterns in the castle worked, but it still blew her mind that lightning could be captured in such a controlled form.

Alucard smiled. “It is. I spent the past two nights finishing the last of the wiring.”

“You should have shown me how you did it, I would’ve liked to watch,” Lucian said, and with a burst of energy she didn’t know she had, vaulted over the railing to go examine one of the lanterns.

“Don’t exert yourself too much,” Alucard chided, drifting after her.

“I’m not a child, Alucard,” Lucian said, carefully tapping on the glass and yanking her hand away when it burned. “Ouch!”

Alucard merely raised an eyebrow. Lucian flipped him off before directing a small spark of healing magic at the burn, and it faded.

“Shut up,” Lucian muttered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Alucard said, and folded his hands behind his back, bobbing up and down slightly in the air. “What do you think?”

Lucian turned around to drink in the library, a wide smile on her face. “I think it’s brilliant.”

* * *

Their outing left Lucian exhausted, and for the first time in ages, she slept through the night, though her dreams were fitful and haunted by images of her family’s burned house, and the charred skeletons she’d found inside. She woke with a start, and her fingers instinctively sought out Alucard before realising that of course he would be in his own bed.

She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t disappointed. She yawned, pleased when it felt like the persistent rattle in her chest was gone—and froze, sitting heavily back down on the bed.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, staring at her hands.

Her. 

Disappointed. 

That he wasn’t in her bed.

She hadn’t exactly been _ignorant_ to her steadily-growing feelings for him, but until now she’d dismissed it as a crush on a very pretty man. 

She certainly hadn’t thought it would be anything as serious as actually falling in love with him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lucian groaned, rubbing her eyes and forcing herself off the bed again. She’d be damned if she was going to lie about all day, especially with her breathing easing. She pulled the sky blue gown over her head and absently rubbed her sore shoulder while she thought.

If someone had asked her a month ago how she felt about the idea that she might fall in love with the half-vampire son of Dracula, she would have laughed in their face.

But he’d been nothing like she thought he would be. Or even anything like his first impression. Or second, or third. There was a gentleness to him, a vulnerability that he tried so hard to hide, slowly unraveled from weeks of close proximity to her. 

No, this couldn’t be right. She was confused—she’d been his patient, so of course she’d be affectionate towards the man who’d saved her life, given her answers about her body she never would have learned otherwise… 

…who read to her when she was too ill to hold a book herself, who let her braid his hair, who brought her books on every subject she could think of when she asked without complaint and _oh fuck_ , she really had fallen for him.

Lucian let her head hit the wardrobe doors with a dull thunk.

Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him? He saw her as a friend and nothing more. His patient, his distraction from the past. He’d grown up in a castle, part of the vampire nobility, learning the arts and sciences and so many languages she’d lost track. 

And she was… herself.

Really, even _Trevor_ would have a better chance with him. 

“Why can’t life ever be fair,” Lucian muttered. She pulled back from the wardrobe, smoothed out her skirts, and tucked a handkerchief in the bodice of her gown before slipping on her boots. She scribbled a note to Alucard and left it on her pillow before setting off to explore the castle.

She needed some time to think.

* * *

“You are surprisingly difficult to find when you don’t want to be,” Alucard said, not looking up from the stove when Lucian followed her nose to the kitchen. The smell of sautéeing onions and garlic lured her from the gallery she’d discovered, and she had to admit skipping breakfast and lunch—though accidental, engrossed as she was in her exploring—was starting to make her stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” Lucian said sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

“Mm,” Alucard said. He pointed to the cup on the table. “You forgot your medicine. Please don’t undo all our hard work because you were bored.”

Lucian wanted to argue, but she just sighed, obligingly gulped down the drink, and set the glass a little harder than necessary on the table. “Can we eat down here tonight?” she asked, and yanked the handkerchief out of her bodice to cough into it. “I’m so sick of eating in bed.”

Alucard turned to look at her, finally, and his face softened. “If you were well enough to spend the day traipsing around the castle, I don’t see why not.”

“I can’t believe you grew up here,” Lucian said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “This place is enormous.”

“Mm.”

Lucian paused. “Was it just you and your parents here, or were there others?”

“You like mushrooms, right?” Alucard asked, turning to his foraging basket and rummaging in it.

“...They’re great,” Lucian said, biting back a sigh. “I still can’t believe buildings this huge exist—the cathedral was the largest I’d ever seen until the other week. Hell, my family’s home was just two rooms—one for living and one for forging.”

“Smiths?” Alucard asked as he diced ingredients to add to the pan. A splash of white wine followed, and Lucian’s mouth watered at the smells that filled the kitchen.

“Yeah,” she said. “Gavril was just old enough to start taking on projects by himself when he…” She looked away. “I think you might not have liked him very much. He was very chatty, for one.”

“Ordinarily, I would say ‘unlike you’, but you seem exceptionally chatty today.” Alucard’s voice was tense.

Lucian’s shoulders hunched. “Sorry,” she murmured. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Was that not clear enough before?”

Lucian hunched further in on herself. “Got it.”

Alucard tossed the food before stooping to check on the fish he had in the oven. “Was there anything in particular you found that you liked?” he asked in an obvious change of topic, and Lucian lit up again.

“The greenhouse!” she said. “There were so many fruits and vegetables there I’d never even heard of before!”

“Many of them are not from Wallachia,” Alucard said, nodding. “The castle used to be able to travel, remember? I believe some of the fruits are from as far away as across the Great Western Ocean.”

Lucian stared. “There’s land past the sea?”

Alucard smiled. “That globe you were examining in the hold was woefully inaccurate,” he said.

“What gl— _oh_.” That had been so long ago she’d nearly forgotten. “What’s the land like, then? Do you have any books? A map?”

“Only ones drawn by my father, and he wasn’t certain how accurate they were,” Alucard said, turning down the heat to let the mushrooms simmer before leaning his back against the counter, hands braced on either side.

He looked infuriatingly like the gods in the stories he’d been reading to her, and Lucian felt heat creeping into her cheeks.

Alucard frowned. “You look feverish again.”

“It’s just—ah—warm in here,” Lucian said quickly, tugging at the neck of her gown. “Maybe we could go out for some fresh air after dinner?”

“I think that would be doable.”

When the food was ready, Lucian ate with gusto, wiggling in her seat. Alucard hid a smile as he watched her; it seemed like she was starting to return to her usual self.

“Hey, now that I’m not coughing so much,” she said around a mouthful of food before swallowing, “are you gonna show me how to cook?”

“Let’s wait until the cough is gone,” Alucard said. “Likewise for any combat lessons.”

Lucian pouted, but nodded and returned to wolfing down her food. Alucard took his time, savouring his meal. It felt strange to be back at the table, rather than sitting by her feet in her bed.

They finished and washed up, and headed outside into the cool evening air. A breeze ruffled the treetops, blowing Alucard’s hair into Lucian’s face. She yelped and swatted it away, and he chuckled, pulling it back and securing it with a leather tie.

Alucard cast an eye over the forest before turning to Lucian. “I think I know a good place to watch the sunset,” he said, offering her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her into the sky, going slow enough she could get her feet under her until they were above the trees, watching the sun sink below the distant mountains.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” Lucian said quietly. Alucard felt her footsteps cease, but when he glanced over at her, she was drifting along beside him, unaware she was floating.

“It is,” Alucard said quietly, studying the splash of freckles across her nose. Even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, he could still count each one. Not for the first time, he was struck by the thought that she was beautiful—especially now that she was back to vigour, rather than the thin shell she’d become during her illness.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, and Lucian’s head whipped around to look at him, startled. 

“I don’t know how,” she said uncertainly.

“You don’t even need to know the steps,” Alucard said, nodding at her feet. 

Lucian glanced down and startled before looking back up at him, wide-eyed. “I’m _flying?_ ”

“Floating, I think, but it’s a near enough thing,” Alucard said.

Lucian let out a startled laugh, but turned so they were facing each other. “Right—okay—how do we do this?”

“Put your other hand on my shoulder,” Alucard said, and his own settled at her waist. Lucian’s long fingers gripped his arm uncertainly, and he turned, taking the lead.

“Is it really dancing if there’s no steps?” Lucian asked jokingly. 

Alucard hummed. “Maybe not. I don’t particularly care.”

Lucian grinned at him, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “I’ve never danced before, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Never?” Alucard asked as they drifted over the forest. “Not even at festivals?”

“We weren’t allowed to dance,” Lucian said. “The clergy, I mean,” she clarified at his incredulous look. “It was ‘undignified’. I always thought it looked like fun.”

Alucard smiled. “And the verdict is?”

“I think dancing while flying over a forest is _much_ more fun than anything they ever did with a maypole!” Lucian let herself drift horizontal, floating higher until she was slightly above Alucard, grinning down at him. “Music or not.”

“There’s a music room in the castle,” Alucard said.

“Let me guess, you play every instrument in there.”

Alucard laughed. “I actually don’t play,” he said. “Father tried, but none of them ever caught my interest.”

“I never got the chance to learn,” Lucian admitted. “There was a pipe organ in the cathedral, but only the musicians were allowed to touch it. I always wanted to learn to play.”

“Unless I’m seriously misremembering—there is an organ in the castle,” Alucard said, and when Lucian’s face lit up at the prospect, he wished he could see her smile like that more.

He loved her. The realisation had been creeping up on him for some time now, but it was there over the forest, moonlight turning the blue of her gown silver and her skin nearly as pale as his as she floated above him, almost ethereal, he could finally put words to these feelings.

Her face was so close now. Alucard brushed away a strand of mousy hair that had fallen in her eyes, letting his fingers trail over her cheek. He wanted desperately to kiss her—but disgraced priest or not, he doubted she would take kindly to kissing something with fangs.

His hands dropped. “We should head back,” he said, turning away. He didn’t look at Lucian as she settled vertically beside him. “We don’t know how long you can stay up here and I’d rather not test it while you’re still recovering.”

Lucian drifted behind him, folding her arms unhappily. She kept replaying the caress over in her head, wondering if she was just tricking herself into thinking he’d wanted to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're dumbasses. They are so fucking stupid. Teenagers, amirite?


	22. Chapter 22

Chilia was a ghost town now, the only proof people had ever lived there the decaying corpses mounted on every available spire, spike, and post in the city. Trevor and Sypha did a sweep for survivors, but finding none, they scavenged a handful of preserved meats and tack before moving on.

They caught up with the Speakers a little over a day outside Chilia, on their way to Severin. It was the next closest city according to Trevor’s map, and as near as Sypha could guess, that was where the Speakers would be headed next. Her guess proved to be correct.

They heard the Speakers before they saw them; tambourines and drums and a stringed instrument that Sypha identified as a vihuela, and indistinct singing. She sat up straighter, a huge smile on her face, and grabbed Trevor’s arm, practically bouncing in her seat from excitement.

“We’ll reach them soon, keep your hair on,” Trevor laughed.

They emerged from the trees to find a ring of wagons in the middle of a small clearing, the light from several campfires throwing a warm glow over the scene. Sypha didn’t even wait for the wagon to stop before she jumped from the driver’s seat, running through a gap in the wagon circle. 

“ _Sypha?_ ” her grandfather gasped, setting down the vihuela and catching her in his arms.

“Grandfather!” Sypha squeezed him as tightly as she dared, careful of his old bones.

“Sypha!”

“Auntie!” Sypha let go of her grandfather to turn and pull the older woman into a hug, and then she found herself surrounded by more Speakers.

“Sypha’s back!”

“Did you do it?”

“Is Dracula dead?”

“Is the Sleeping Soldier with you?”

“What about the Belmont?”

“Yeah, he still owes me an apple!”

“For God’s sake, where am I going to get an apple out here?” Trevor asked, joining them. He wasn’t expecting a warm reception, but one of the Speakers thumped him on the arm, and another thrust a bowl of food at him, and Trevor and Sypha found themselves sitting around one of the fires, listening to the music and watching the Speakers dance.

Sypha relaxed against Trevor, feeling at peace. She’d missed this, the infectious energy that came from collective joy. 

Her grandfather had passed the vihuela to Doina, and sat with them while they ate. He gently touched the scars that covered her shoulder, but didn’t remark on them, just giving her arm a gentle squeeze of reassurance, and she leaned into his touch.

“It’s so good to have you back, my angel,” her grandfather said. He didn’t press for the details of their journey; he knew Sypha would soon be regaling them with the tale as soon as she was done eating.

“It’s good to be back, Grandfather,” Sypha said, setting her spoon down briefly so she could grasp his hand. 

“I’m certainly surprised to see you again so soon,” he said. “And Dracula’s really dead?”

Sypha laughed. “He is, but to say any more than that…” She tapped her nose. “Well, that would be telling.”

“Sypha’s been practicing her story the whole journey here,” Trevor said around a mouthful of food. “I could probably recite it by heart at this point.”

“I’m sure it will be an exciting tale.” The Elder smiled.

“I could have stood for it to be a bit less exciting, Elder,” Trevor said dryly.

The Elder held up a hand. “Please—call me Nicolae. After everything you’ve done for my people, I think it is safe to say we are on first name terms, Trevor.”

“Ah—sure?” Trevor said uncertainly. “I wasn’t doing it for you, exactly. It was for Wallachia.”

“For the world,” Sypha corrected, and leaned over to kiss him. 

Ordinarily, Trevor would have enthusiastically returned the kiss, but he froze, eyes wide as he watched Nicolae over Sypha’s shoulder. The Elder’s eyebrow went up, a faint smile on his lips as he turned his head to watch the dancers. Trevor took this as Nicolae’s way of showing he had no objections, so closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around Sypha’s shoulders.

“Wish me luck?” Sypha murmured as the song finished.

“You’ve practiced this enough you don’t need luck,” Trevor said, brushing a thumb over her cheek. 

Sypha beamed and set her empty bowl aside, standing up. Doina hastily silenced the opening chord of the next song, and everyone turned expectantly to look at Sypha. One by one, the dancers took their seats on the ground, leaving Sypha the only one still standing.

She looked at each of them in turn, ending on Trevor. She winked at him, took a deep breath, and began reciting the words he was certain she could say in her sleep.

“ _Human cruelty and ignorance knows no bounds. Wars that could have been avoided, fought over needless suffering. Dracula’s war on humanity was one such war that stemmed from hatred and was enacted for love._ ”

Trevor had heard it a hundred times, through dozens upon dozens of variations as they traveled. He could have mouthed along with her, though his delivery would be far from as good as Sypha’s. But sitting amongst the Speakers, with the flavour of rich spices and fatty wild game on his tongue and the smell of the campfire and the rapt attention given by the audience, it was almost like hearing the story for the first time.

In a way, he supposed, it was. This was how the story was always meant to be shared.

Sypha was an animated storyteller; in the confines of the wagon, the most she could do was gesticulate while he kept the horses on track, but here she paced, she swayed, she stomped, using her body as much as her words.

She painted a vivid picture for them, of Trevor and Lucian rescuing Nicolae from the priests and her from the cyclops. How Trevor saved the Speakers from the mob, and she saved Trevor. The attack on Gresit where Lucian vaporised the demons in their tracks with enough force to blow a hole in the ground and send them falling through the catacombs.

Her recounting the fight between Trevor and Alucard had never made him blush before, but now hearing it described in front of everyone made heat rise to his cheeks, especially when he caught several of them sending glances his way. 

The days of travel were not glossed over, either. Sypha spoke of Lucian’s wonder at leaving the city for the first time, of Alucard and Trevor’s bickering, how she herself coped leaving her tribe behind. 

Trevor’s stomach rumbled, and before he could quietly ask for a refill, Rahela was wordlessly pressing another bowl into his hands, eyes still fixed on Sypha.

The Belmont Hold was described in loving detail. Trevor’s eyes stung, and he blinked rapidly a few times, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat. His gaze broke from Sypha and he glanced down at his bowl, wondering what the hold looked like now. If Alucard and Lucian had replaced the seals on it somehow. If they hadn’t just gotten bored and left. Or maybe they were cleaning the castle first…

He came back to attention when Sypha began describing the process of completing the spell to call Dracula’s castle to them, and for the first time since the start of the tale, a ripple of murmurs broke the silence the Speakers had been observing.

Sypha didn’t seem at all displeased—in fact, quite the opposite. Her face went red and she lifted her chin, her voice becoming stronger.

Seeing her illuminated by the fire commanding the attention of everyone present was breathtaking. Sypha met his gaze and she smiled, and Trevor felt something bloom in his chest. 

Through the fight against Dracula’s guards when Lucian learned to walk on air, to their confrontation with Dracula and Trevor’s miraculous survival of being slammed into a wall hard enough to crack it, the injuries they sustained, Dracula’s enormous fireball.

Trevor’s hands curled around the bowl in his lap. How _had_ he survived that? By all rights, his organs should have ruptured, his skeleton shattered. Lucian healed him after, of course, but before that? There shouldn’t have been anything of him _left_ to heal.

Alucard’s final confrontation with his father could easily have been turned into a grand showdown, a battle that would go down in song and history. But here, Sypha’s voice dropped, only just audible over the crackling of the flames. Hers was a tale of tragedy, father against son, a family broken apart by the church.

Just another way he and Alucard had more in common than he liked to think about.

“ _When Dracula realised what he was doing, he despaired, and didn’t resist when his son drove the stake into his heart,_ ” Sypha said softly. “ _The war against humanity was over, but at what cost? The price of victory was paid in blood._

_“Belmont left his hold in Alucard’s care, and Enache stayed behind as Belnades and Belmont headed west, safe in the knowledge that Lisa Ţepeş’ love for humanity lives on in her son._ ”

Sypha lowered her arms, and Trevor burst into applause. None of the Speakers joined in and he quickly let his hands fall, feeling like he’d managed to stumble across that one taboo Sypha had forgotten to mention.

Around him, heads were bowed, eyes closed in contemplation. Even Sypha remained where she was, hands folded in front of her while she waited—though she gave Trevor a slow wink, which reassured him a little that his gaffe hadn’t been _too_ egregious.

  
  


Nicolae silently handed Sypha a rough-hewn wooden cup full of water, and she drank, the cool liquid soothing her throat after nearly an hour and a half of nonstop talking. The Speakers raised their heads and began chattering, and Sypha moved to sit beside Trevor.

“You were brilliant,” Trevor said, stealing a quick kiss from Sypha.

“Oh—please,” Sypha said, waving a hand (though she was very proud of herself). “You’ve heard it a million times already.”

“Not like that, though,” Trevor said. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Sypha snuggled against his side.

She stared at the fire, losing herself in her thoughts, and it wasn’t until Trevor gently shook her shoulder that she realised he’d been saying something. “I’m sorry, I missed that,” she said, shaking her head to clear it.

“I didn’t fuck up too badly clapping?” Trevor asked, and Sypha chuckled.

“You’re an outsider. Nobody will mind that you interrupted their committing my story to their memory banks.”

Trevor groaned. “You just had to put it that way.”

“I’m _teasing._ ” Sypha laid her head on his shoulder, looking back into the fire again. “Do you think we made the right decision?” she asked quietly. “Leaving Alucard behind?”

“He’s fine,” Trevor said, though he sounded uncertain. “He’s an emotionally stunted half-breed; if anything I feel bad for Lucian trying to get him to talk about his feelings or whatever.”

“Trevor—”

“I know.” He sighed. “I know the story, I know he’s got to be a mess right now, but what if _we_ did the wrong thing letting Lucian go back to him? Maybe he really does just need to be alone.”

Sypha frowned. “Maybe,” she said dubiously. “I know I wouldn’t want to be alone after that, but…”

The arm that wasn’t wrapped around her shoulders gestured to the Speakers, who were preparing to start another round of dancing. “But this is what you’re used to,” Trevor pointed out. “Besides, you really think if I stayed, that wouldn’t piss him off and make things worse?”

“The bickering could be good for him,” Sypha protested, but her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Hmph. Maybe.”

Arn sat down across from them, his eyes straying toward Trevor’s arm around Sypha’s shoulders. “That must have been your best story yet,” he said to Sypha. “What you did—with the castle—it’s incredible.”

Sypha beamed. “Thank you,” she said. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure it was going to work.”

“It sort of didn’t,” Trevor pointed out. “You melted the mechanism.”

Sypha scoffed at that, drawing away from Trevor and folding her arms. “We are not discussing this again. I did not melt it.”

“Alucard, Lucian, and I versus you,” Trevor said. 

“Whatever I did, I’m sure it’s nothing Lucian can’t fix,” Sypha said. At Trevor’s skeptical look, she amended, “Eventually.”

“So the great Castlevania is now permanently parked atop the Belmont ancestral home,” Arn said, glancing at Trevor. “I’m surprised you just gave it away to a dhampir.”

“To a friend,” Trevor corrected, leveling a challenging stare at Arn, who looked unconcerned. “He wanted to stay, I didn’t. It was the practical thing to do.”

Arn sat back, looking impressed. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. “You are just full of surprises, Belmont.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Trevor deadpanned.

Sypha elbowed him gently. “Was there something you wanted, Arn? You’ve got that look about you.”

“Just to congratulate you on another tale well-told,” Arn said, but when Sypha raised an eyebrow, he relented. “Ghiță and I were going to bed if you wanted to join us?”

“Tell him it’s appreciated, but not tonight,” Sypha said, leaning forward to kiss his cheeks.

Arn cast a glance at Trevor and his mouth curled in a smile. “Understandable. Have a good evening.” He rose and retreated to one of the wagons, and Sypha leaned back against Trevor’s side.

He felt tense.

“What was that?” Trevor asked.

Sypha twisted to look up at him; his expression was oddly shuttered. “What was what?”

“That?” Trevor said, gesturing after Arn. “Just now?”

“I believe he was asking me if I cared to join him and his boyfriend for sex,” Sypha said casually.

Trevor’s expression twitched slightly. “No, I got that part,” he said. “Is he just blind, or does he not give a fuck about—” He gestured between the two of them, and understanding dawned on Sypha.

“I don’t think it occurred to him that you would mind,” she said. “Or that at least I would have told you on the journey.” She tilted her head, a faint smile playing around her lips. “You weren’t nearly this upset about Lucian kissing me.”

“We weren’t really together, then,” Trevor pointed out. He tugged his hair and looked around, standing up and holding out a hand to her. “Can we discuss this elsewhere?”

Sypha sighed internally, but reminded herself that Trevor likely didn’t have any experience with this sort of thing before, so took his hand and let him lead her a short ways outside of the wagon circle to the treeline.

“Okay, so,” Trevor said, stopping and turning to face her. “You and Arn and this Ghiță guy?”

“Yes,” Sypha said.

“At the same time?”

“It’s really not that difficult to understand, Trevor,” Sypha said. “I find it _very_ hard to believe you’ve never heard of multiple partners in all your years of travel.”

Trevor dragged a hand over his face. “Of course I’ve heard of it,” he said. “I just didn’t realise it was a Speaker custom.”

Sypha laughed, startled rather than judgemental, but at Trevor’s frown she hastened to clarify. “It isn’t,” she said. “We just tend to be a _bit_ less hasty than the church to declare it sinful.”

He nodded, and Sypha studied him for a moment. 

“Would you prefer I not?” she asked. “Because when we return to the castle, I believe Lucian promised a kiss for you, too…”

Trevor shifted uncomfortably. “I’d… need to think about it,” he admitted, and groaned when Sypha slipped an arm around his waist. “You’re giving me that look.”

“You think she’s cute, don’t you?” Sypha asked lightly, and Trevor was put on the spot to decide if Sypha was teasing or testing him.

She didn’t seem like the type to do the latter. And he trusted her.

The truth it was, then.

“Yes,” he said, tilting his face skyward so he didn’t have to look at Sypha giggling beside him.

“Well,” Sypha said, “we’re not in any hurry to go back just yet. Plenty of time to talk about it on the road.”

Trevor finally deemed it safe to look at Sypha again, and his face softened, cupping her chin. “I love you,” he said, and the words just slipped out, but the instant they did, he knew they were true. “You know that, right?”

Sypha caught his hand and leaned up on tiptoes. “I know,” she said, and brushed the lightest of kisses against his mouth. “I love you too, Trevor Belmont.”

And for one perfect moment in each other’s arms, all was right in the world.


	23. Chapter 23

Lucian was sprawled in the shade under her favourite tree, thumbing through the pages of a thick, water-stained tome about weather, feet kicked up behind her and waving idly. She was beginning to become familiar with the consistent thin, spidery writing that filled so many of the books she’d torn through, and she had a sneaking suspicion she was reading works in Dracula’s own hand.

But when she’d asked, Alucard deflected her question by asking if she wanted to come with him to help rig up a sort of lift to make getting in and out of the hold easier. She frowned, but jumped at the chance to go outside and make herself less of a burden than she’d been over the past month.

Now, she read while she waited for Alucard to come back with materials. Lucian wanted to go with him, of course, but her breathing wasn’t still quite back to normal, and it would be a ways away to walk.

It wasn’t until Lucian was about halfway through with the book (and deeply engrossed in learning about hurricanes) that she heard footsteps and looked up to see Alucard standing in front of her, hand outstretched. She set the book aside and let him pull her to her feet, and they headed toward the Belmont Hold. 

“Does this mean you were successful?” Lucian asked, and Alucard nodded.

“I think you could say that,” he said, and Lucian gasped when they rounded a crumbling wall to see an enormous stack of lumber, coils of rope, and a massive boulder sitting by the gaping hole in the ground.

“Where did you get all this?” Lucian gasped, gesturing at the lumber.

Alucard suddenly looked a little sheepish. “The lumber mill in the nearby village. I left a sizable amount of gold in payment,” he added quickly when Lucian opened her mouth. “With hopefully enough extra to make up for the inconvenience this will cause.”

“It would have been easier if you’d just had me negotiate a buying price,” Lucian said, but not as reproachfully as she might have been.

“Hm. Are you familiar with carpentry?” Alucard asked.

Lucian snorted. “You’re thinking of Jesus, not me.”

Despite himself, he chuckled. “It will still be good to have an extra pair of hands. I drew up some plans for the lift…”

They set to work. Alucard’s vampiric strength and seemingly endless energy made the work go by much faster than if they were working under human limitations. The sun crept higher and the heat intensified, and at one point Alucard shed his shirt. 

He caught her staring, and a faint smirk curled his lips. “Honestly, Enache, growing up surrounded by men, surely this isn’t a new sight to you.”

Lucian quickly looked away to squint up at the sun, which was getting uncomfortably warm.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, and yanked her tunic off, discarding it on the ground before crouching to pick up one end of a beam of lumber. It wasn’t that Alucard _couldn’t_ lift it by himself, but having somebody to balance the other end made things easier.

She glanced up when he didn’t, and dropped her end of the beam to cross her arms over her chest. “ _What?_ ” she said defensively. “You already knew I don’t have breasts.”

“Forgive me,” Alucard said quickly, picking up his end and motioning for her to do the same. 

Lucian sighed and did so. “Fair’s fair, I guess,” she said, and was slightly mollified when she heard his chuckle. “Let’s just do this.” 

The puncture wounds in her shoulder were mostly healed by this point, but her muscles still ached as she and Alucard lifted the crossbeam into the sky, settling it on the support structures they’d spent most of the morning working on. No nails were needed; Alucard had measured and cut fitted slots perfectly, and the beam slid into place the moment they set it down.

“Can I ask a maybe weird question?” Lucian asked as they floated back to the ground.

Alucard glanced over at her and inclined his head.

“How hard are your talons?”

He chuckled and elongated a talon to begin cutting the next piece of wood he’d marked. “You read that geology book I gave you, right?”

“Yes?”

The rest of the talons on his hands came out, and he held them up for her to see. “Harder than diamonds.”

“Whoa.” Lucian sat cross-legged next to him, folding her arms over the rolls of her stomach and trying not to compare herself too much to his impossibly sculpted features.

...She had to ask.

“Another one?” When he nodded, she plowed on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you exercising before, so, um…” 

Alucard paused, followed her gaze, and at this he laughed. “I have no need for fat reserves,” he said, going back to his work. "There's almost nothing between muscle and skin for me."

“Well, that’s just unfair,” Lucian said sullenly. “It seems like being a dhampir comes with all the perks of vampirism _and_ humans, and none of the downsides of either.”

“Not entirely wrong,” Alucard agreed. “Though you’re also forgetting the willingness of humans to try and kill me because I have fangs, and vampires for having a working heart.” He glanced at her. “The only reason I was safe in my father’s court is because of who he was.”

Lucian drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them loosely. _Fft-fft-fft._ “I guess I didn’t look at it that way,” she said quietly. “I… was it lonely, growing up like that?”

“Can you hand me a length of rope?” Alucard asked. Lucian frowned, but got up to do as he asked.

She coiled it in her hands, wondering what she could do to get Alucard to just _talk_ to her. It had been nearly a month since he killed his father, and other than the aside mention here and there, he barely spoke a word about his parents—and certainly not on how their deaths were affecting him.

Pushing _too_ hard would just make him retreat further; not pushing _enough_ wouldn’t get him to talk.

“What would you have done?” Lucian asked, still coiling the rope. “If I hadn’t come back, I mean.”

“Much the same, I think,” Alucard said. He prised loose the disc he’d cut and took the offered rope, wrapping it around the thin edge and marking its width with a piece of charcoal. Lucian helped him turn the disc so he could keep the rope down the centre. “Only without the addition of keeping you alive.”

“Do you wish I hadn’t come back?” she asked, watching him begin to carve a pulley wheel with his talons.

He paused, and glanced up at her. “No,” he said. “I’m very glad you did. I expect I would have started to go mad by now otherwise.”

“I miss Trevor and Sypha,” Lucian sighed. 

“Do you, now?” Alucard cleared his throat and put on a gruffer voice. “‘ _I don’t see why you’d miss me. I sleep in ditches and smell like the pig I probably fucked while drinking from a tankard full of swill_ —’”

Despite herself, Lucian laughed until she was gasping for air, and she put a terrified hand to her throat. 

Alucard dropped what he was doing, urging her to sit up straight. “It will clear your airways,” he said, a hand on her back to steady her. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly… slowly…”

It felt like she was drowning on land. Alucard’s voice was calm enough to reassure her, and she struggled to follow his instructions. She could tell her throat was opening back up as she breathed, and she began coughing, thumping herself on the chest.

“Guess I’ve got a while to go, huh?” she said weakly.

“It’s only been two weeks since your fever disappeared,” Alucard pointed out. He remained by her side until she indicated for him to continue his work. “Frankly, the rate at which you’re recovering is astonishing.”

“Maybe my healing is able to do a little bit after all?” Lucian guessed, watching Alucard carve out the wood.

“Maybe,” he agreed. 

With the two of them working together, and no need to worry about falling into the hole, they were able to construct a platform that extended over the mouth of the pit, and from there a lift to be counterbalanced by the giant boulder Alucard had produced from who-knows-where. Lucian watched with no small amazement as he hefted the thing.

“That’s got to weigh at _least_ twelve tons,” she said, passing the rope underneath while Alucard held it up for her. Strangely, she wasn’t afraid he risked dropping it on her.

“Eleven and a half, I think,” Alucard said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather.

“Oh, _only_ eleven and a half tons, I’m sorry,” Lucian said, rolling her eyes. “Does it _feel_ heavy to you?” She crawled out from underneath and floated up and over to tie a tight timber hitch. “Or does it feel about what lifting a loaf of bread does for me?”

“I can tell this is significantly heavier than a loaf of bread, but it doesn’t strain my arms if that’s what you mean,” Alucard said. “I could keep holding this quite easily for some time.”

“Well, as Trevor would say: ‘ _Fucking vampires_ ,’” Lucian said.

“‘ _Really now, Treffie, that’s just rude, you know,_ ’” Alucard said in a falsetto, and Lucian snorted, sliding off the boulder to grab another length of rope. “‘ _And crass, and uncouth, and ill-mannered. I could keep going in other languages because I know all of them._ ’”

“Is that really what you think Sypha sounds like?” Lucian giggled, making a second pass underneath the boulder.

“It’s been so long I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what her voice sounds like.” Alucard was quiet, and Lucian, upon realising she couldn’t remember what Sypha sounded like either, felt a small part of her stomach drop out from under her.

“Trevor’s, too,” Lucian said. She’d frozen next to Alucard while they contemplated this, and startled out of her reverie to drift up on top of the boulder to secure a second knot. “I wish they hadn’t left.”

“Do you regret not going with them?”

A third rope, a third pass. “I’d be dead if I had.”

“Assuming you wouldn’t be.”

“No,” Lucian said immediately, surprising herself and Alucard in the process. She paused, considered, and said, “No. I like it here. I _do_ want to see more of the world at some point, but this is the first place I’ve ever really been able come close to calling home.”

“It’s your home now as much as it is mine,” Alucard said firmly. She glanced over the edge of the boulder at him, and he smiled.

“Then—this castle’s the first place I can call home,” she said, securing the rope. “And I’m glad you’re not here by yourself, either. I rather like your company.”

“Or you just like braiding my hair.”

“Or _you_ just like _me_ braiding it,” Lucian shot back.

Alucard tilted his head to hide his face, but Lucian knew he was grinning. “Speaking of which—after dinner tonight, I thought we could continue _The Odyssey_ while you braided?”

Lucian slid off the boulder, lightly touching his arm as she passed. “I’d love that.”

* * *

The weather was beautiful today, but Lucian was holed up inside, sprawled on the floor of one of Dracula’s libraries. There was an entire collection of comfortable reading armchairs and even a handful of sofas, but she’d gathered an armful of books on horticulture and simply sat on the floor where she was, skirts pooling around her.

It was hardly the most dignified position, and her legs began to cramp until she lay out on her back, holding the book above her as she kept reading, tongue poking out of her mouth.

She _could_ be out under her favourite tree again, but the books were here, and she wasn’t particularly feeling like taking a day’s worth of reading outside only to need to haul them all back up. Ordinarily, she would have pestered Alucard to help, but he was out foraging, promising he’d return with fish.

And besides, she’d fallen asleep the night before with a text on medicinal plants on her face and very much wanted to pick up where she’d left off.

Alucard hadn’t been gone very long, though, before Lucian’s head shot up at the sound of him calling her name.

She frowned, but got up, left the books where they were, nearly tripped over her skirts from where they'd been tucked under her feet, and hastened to the staircase. “Alucard?” she called, emerging in the entry hall. “... _Sypha? Trevor?_ ”

Her hopes were dashed when the silhouettes on either side of Alucard came into view. A man and a woman who looked like they came from someplace far away, watching her with something akin to awe.

“We had no idea the Alucard had a wife,” the man said, bowing respectfully, and the woman hurried to follow suit.

Lucian began spluttering, glancing at Alucard for help.

Heat crept up his neck, but he held out a hand. “Lucian is a very dear friend of mine,” he said. “Lucian, this is Sumi and Taka,” he added, indicating which was which. “They hunt vampires.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That seems like a good place to end the chapter! :D


	24. Chapter 24

Lucian warily descended the stairs, skirts bunched in her hands to keep them out of the way as she eyed the so-called vampire hunters. But Alucard seemed to be at ease, and if he’d shown them into the castle, he must have deemed them safe.

“We’ve been searching for this castle for a very long time,” Sumi said, watching as Lucian approached. “We had no idea it was inhabited until today, though.”

“Are there any more of you?” Taka asked.

Alucard and Lucian exchanged glances. Alucard’s heart was heavy as he spoke. “Not anymore.”

“It’s just the two of us now,” Lucian said.

“The four of us, I think,” Alucard said. “I’ve offered to teach them how to be better hunters. They’ll be staying at the castle with us in the meantime.”

Lucian smiled—uncertain, but excited. “Well, it’s not like we don’t have plenty of space.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and held out a hand to Sumi, who was closest. “It’ll be good to have other people around again.”

Sumi, and then Taka, grasped her hand, and Lucian’s smile widened.

“You are… not a vampire?” Taka asked, peering at her teeth.

“Huh? Oh, no—” Lucian opened her mouth a bit for him to look. “See? Just human here.”

Alucard moved forward to stand beside her, gesturing at Sumi and Taka. “Would you like to discuss this somewhere more comfortable? Perhaps over wine.”

The pair looked at each other before smiling.

“It’s been a long journey,” Sumi said. “We would love that.”

Alucard lightly touched Lucian’s shoulder. “Could you show our guests to the kitchen while I fetch the wine?”

“Sure,” Lucian said, but he was already gone. She turned back to Sumi and Taka, practically quivering with excitement. “It’s just this way,” she said, and bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment before setting off, gown sweeping behind her. “Sorry if I’m getting too excitable, I just haven’t had anybody aside from Alucard to talk to in so long and even though he’s really great it gets a bit lonely having just him so it’s really nice to see new faces and I hope you like it here, it’s lovely—”

“Slow down,” Sumi said, laughing. “How long have you been here?”

Lucian began counting the weeks on her fingers, her brow furrowed. “About a month and a half,” she said. “Feels like it’s been both longer and no time at all, though. Here we are.” She pushed open the door, conjuring little balls of radiance to hover around the kitchen, still dim in the early morning. A new trick she’d recently discovered, which kept her reading long after dark.

“What—?” Taka gasped, hesitantly lifting a finger to poke at one near his head. “It’s warm!”

“I thought you said you were human?” Sumi asked, her eyes wide. “Are you a witch?”

Lucian sat at the table, indicating for them to join her. “I’m not a witch, but I am human,” she said. “Mostly. I think, anyway. I’ve just got some… extra abilities.”

“You must be an incredible fighter, then,” Sumi said, and Lucian’s face went red at the comment.

“I’m really not,” she said awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Alucard’s been meaning to teach me, but I’ve not been well as of late so it keeps getting pushed back.”

“I see… So the stories about the castle,” Sumi said. “Is it true?”

“Can it really move?”

Lucian picked at the sleeves of her gown, suddenly not quite certain where to look. “It used to,” she said at last. “One of our departed friends cast a spell that brought it here. The machinery melted in the process.”

Sumi and Taka exchanged glances. Lucian could have sworn she saw a silent conversation pass between them, but then Alucard was nudging the door of the kitchen open with his hip, somehow managing to carry the wine bottle and four glasses all at once. 

“I suppose Lucian’s been telling you all about her extraordinary abilities,” Alucard remarked, casting a glance at the lights as he poured Sumi and Taka their drinks.

“Only about the lights,” Sumi said, glancing at Lucian and frowning slightly.

Lucian accepted her glass from Alucard, but didn’t drink. “Honestly, I don’t know the extent of them all,” she said. “But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to hear me talk.”

The last of the wine was poured and Alucard sat in his usual seat, swirling the glass’s contents before taking a sip. “I think we’d much rather hear about the two of you first, seeing as you already know so much about me.”

Lucian glanced sideways at that comment, but didn’t remark on it; she would ask him later. “Where are you from?” she asked the pair sitting opposite her. “You don’t seem like you’re Wallachian.”

“Northern Japan,” Sumi said, staring down into her wine glass. “Taka and I were slaves to a vampire named Cho.”

Lucian’s face softened. “I’m glad you made it out here, then,” she said. 

“It was… not easy,” Taka said. “We were given to her hidden court as children; it amused her to have a human honour guard.” His face twisted. “Not that she needed guarding. Sometimes, it was her pleasure to have us allow a hunter to pass through her ranks and into her court.”

Sumi took a small sip of her wine. “This was how it was, every day. Some new horror, some new punishment. Some new boastful exercise of her complete power over us.” She set the glass down, hands curling around the stem. “Every day was slavery.” She looked away. “Every day was death. And we had to watch it all.”

“Cho was… ancient, and arrogant,” Taka said, taking Sumi’s hand in his own. He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he spoke. “She had lived forever where no army could reach her, no superior power could end her.” He took a deep breath, eyes closing. “We just watched. And learned.”

Sumi nodded. “We spent years studying how she lived, studying how she fought. We learned from her every victory—memorised her every weakness.”

Taka took a bracing drink before continuing. “We read her books, and listened to her legend, and wished only for the chance to free our people from her teeth—and then she left.” He glanced over at Alucard, who had been listening to the story intently without interruption. “Summoned to Dracula’s war court.”

“We killed all her guards and freed the people of the hidden court within days. But…” Sumi’s voice was heavy. “Cho was always going to come back, so we left to hunt her.” She laced her fingers through Taka’s, and he squeezed her hand.

“Because if she returns to the court, it will begin all over again,” Taka said, leaning forward intently. “If she’s truly dead, then other vampires will eventually take her court over, and our freedom will mean _nothing._ ”

Lucian had been fidgeting in her seat through their whole tale, struggling to not interrupt and ask questions. “So you came looking for the castle hoping to find information on how to kill vampires?” 

“Information, weapons, anything that could help us keep our land safe,” Taka said, nodding.

“But now we know Alucard is here—and you, with your powers,” Sumi said, watching Lucian, “we could really use friends like you.”

Alucard finally moved for the first time—to reach for his glass of wine and drain it. “You need instruction,” he said at long last. He considered them. “Perhaps one or two new weapons. ...Maybe learn a little magic?”

He shifted, leaning forward, almost looking up at them from under his eyelashes, and Lucian felt the floor drop out from under her.

“Magic?” Taka gasped. “Really?”

“Magic,” Alucard confirmed. He raised an eyebrow. “What do we think?”

Sumi and Taka looked at each other, wide-eyed, before looking back at Alucard.

“We would love to,” Sumi said, beaming.

* * *

Alucard showed Sumi and Taka to their rooms before taking them on a quick tour of the most important facilities. Lucian slipped away at some point, but he didn’t even notice until Taka asked where she’d gone, and Alucard turned around to see she’d vanished.

“Probably to one of the libraries,” Alucard said. “She’s quite fond of books.”

“Libraries? As in more than one?” Sumi said in amazement.

Taka’s eyes shone. “Can we see?”

“Plenty of time for that later,” Alucard said. “It’s nearing lunchtime; I suppose you must be hungry.”

Taka’s stomach rumbled, and he and Sumi exchanged glances.

“We _are_ pretty hungry,” Taka admitted. 

Alucard’s foraging hadn’t been very successful before it was interrupted, but there were plenty of ingredients from past outings, and he and Lucian also made bread dough the night before to proof. Now he put it in the oven to bake while he put together a simple gazpacho. 

“Do you normally cook?” Sumi asked. She and Taka watched his every move with interest.

“All the time,” Alucard said. “I’ve been trying to teach Lucian, but she’s not very good at it yet. In time, I suppose.” 

“Will she be joining us?”

Alucard tilted his head, listening for Lucian’s distinct stride and hearing nothing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s forgotten.”

“Forgotten to eat?” Taka’s laugh sounded disbelieving.

“Mm. She does tend to do that a lot.”

* * *

It wasn’t until the evening that he heard from Lucian again. Alucard was about to get ready for bed when he heard her soft footsteps pause on the other side of the door. She knocked.

“Yes, Lucian?” he called, unlacing his boots.

She stuck her head around the door, mouth bulging around some food. “Can we talk?” she asked, somehow managing to spit the words out.

“Of course.” He paused to pat the space beside him before returning to his task. “I see you found the bread and cheese I left out for you.”

Lucian swallowed, looking sheepish. “I did, yeah. Sorry I missed dinner, I just got so engrossed in this book on poisonous plants, and there was a footnote that referenced _carnivorous_ plants of all things, and I thought to myself there was no way it could be true, so I had to go looking for information on that, and then—”

“I think I get the picture,” Alucard said, cutting her off. She was becoming noticeably chattier as of late, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe because she was feeling more relaxed being away from Gresit. “We missed you at our meals today; Sumi and Taka were wondering where you were.”

“Oh.” Lucian took another bite from her bread and cheese, finishing the last of it off. “Oops?”

“Why did you leave?” Alucard asked, placing his boots neatly beside the bed. “I would have thought you’d be excited to have new people to talk to.”

“I am,” Lucian protested. Her hands knotted in her skirts as she hissed through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft_. “It’s just… I’ve gotten so used to only having you around, you know? And then out of the blue they showed up, and it was… I dunno, it felt like I was being suffocated? Or…” She lifted a hand, lightly touching the side of her head. “Like there was a hand squeezing around my brain.”

Alucard nodded. “That’s understandable. I have to say, though, it’s good to have more people around again.”

Lucian nodded. She fidgeted again, twisting and untwisting the fabric under her hands. “Do you trust them?” she blurted.

He considered the question for a moment. “I consider them trustworthy,” he said at last. “Which is not to say I trust them just yet. But I think we can.” 

“I just… kind of get the sense they’re—”

“Hiding something?” 

Lucian’s head shot up. 

Alucard smiled, a little thinly. “Everyone has their secrets, Lucian. But their motives, I think, are sincere.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.” Lucian briefly leaned her head against his shoulder, carding her fingers absently through his hair. “Don’t suppose it’s too late for me to braid this now?”

“I doubt it would ever be too late,” Alucard said, and scooted farther back on the bed so the both of them could sit comfortably while she worked.

* * *

When she dreamt that night, it was not the usual nightmares of discovering the burned forge. Instead, it was of Trevor and Sypha, asleep in the back of the familiar wagon, arms wrapped around each other. Lucian smiled and sat on the edge of the wagon, looking out on the dream’s surroundings. A ring of wagons surrounding the dying embers of fire pits, grass tamped down from dancing feet.

She felt her pipe in her pocket and pulled it out to find it was already lit, and she happily took a puff when she realised her lungs no longer ached.

The night was cool and peaceful, and a sweet breeze drifted through the camp, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and… sulphur?

She dropped the pipe and it went out in the grass.

An overwhelming sense of terror—a hundred, a thousand times stronger than any of her panics, flooded her body, and Lucian was paralysed with fear, unable to move or blink or even breathe as she found herself falling to land in a small hamlet, outside the doors of a church. Rain poured down, drenching her, and lightning flashed overhead, followed immediately by a crack of thunder.

“This is a nightmare,” Lucian whispered, though her lips never moved. “Just a nightmare, just a nightmare. Wake up!”

A massive night creature landed in front of her, four legs and sinewy tail and far, far too many brightly-coloured eyes glowing with malice. It lowered its narrow head, and although she knew she was dreaming, Lucian was struck with the most awful sense that this thing could see _her._

It leapt into the air and crashed down through the roof of the church, and Lucian could move again. “No!” she screamed, running forwards, and the world became a swirl of colour like the creature’s eyes, and still she kept running, running, the stench of sulphur getting stronger.

Lucian jolted awake in a puddle of dampness, her heart racing. She realised something wet was dripping off her face to land on the pillow, and she pulled it out from under her head, placing it over her face to muffle her sobs and the lingering smell of brimstone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be rejoining Trevor and Sypha next chapter, no worries.


	25. Chapter 25

Sypha woke as the sun rose, and she sat up, yawning. She paused, sniffing the air, and prodded Trevor’s arm. “Trevor. Treffie.”

“Not that Treffie nonsense again,” Trevor groaned, cracking an eye open. “What is it, Sypha?”

“Can you smell that?”

“Breakfast?” Trevor sniffed, wrinkled his nose, and sniffed again. “...Cannabis?” 

Sypha nodded. “So it’s not just me?”

Trevor pushed the blankets off and wrapped his cloak around him to guard against the morning chill, hopping out of the wagon.

Something crunched under his boots, and he lifted a foot to see—

“The _fuck?_ ” he breathed.

“Is that… Lucian’s pipe?” Sypha asked when Trevor held it up in confusion. “Let me see that.” She took it before he could hand it to her and she squinted at it, turning it over in her hands. It was real as near as she could tell, and it smelled like it had been recently used. 

“No way she forgot it in the wagon,” Trevor said, folding his arms. “We’d have noticed if she did—and besides, it smells fresh.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Sypha said. “Are there any other signs of her?”

A quick search of the wagon and the surrounding area turned up nothing.

“Could it be a warning—a threat?” Trevor put words to what Sypha had been thinking but dreaded saying out loud.

“Or a message,” Sypha said slowly. “We don’t know the extent of her abilities; it could have come from her…”

Around them, the rest of the camp was starting to wake up, Emil stoking the fires back to life while his wife Ilinca got porridge going. Nicolae joined his granddaughter and Trevor from his own wagon, frowning when he saw the looks on their faces.

“You seem troubled this morning, Sypha,” he said, and in a moment, Sypha made her decision.

“It’s nothing, Grandfather,” she said, slipping the pipe out of sight amongst their things. She hopped back out of the wagon and kissed his cheeks. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very. Though my old bones are starting to ache from the chill,” Nicolae said. “Perhaps we shall seek out warmer weather soon.” He studied Sypha, and she bit her lip, glancing at Trevor. “Ah,” Nicolae said. “You won’t be travelling with us.”

“No,” Sypha said, bowing her head. “It’s been wonderful being back with everyone, but Trevor and I must be moving on. There are still night creatures on the loose, even if Dracula is now dead.”

Nicolae nodded, cradling Sypha’s face between his hands and kissing her forehead. “At least stay with us for breakfast.”

Sypha laughed and hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away before that!”

* * *

While they ate, Trevor pored over his map, tracing the route they’d taken to get where they were. It was circuitous, roundabout; if they wanted to reach the hold anytime soon, they would be better off cutting across Wallachia. No major cities in the way, maybe a few small hamlets here and there to break up the monotony.

It wouldn’t be much of a shortcut, but it would shave at least two weeks off their journey, which was something.

While Trevor hitched the horses to the wagon, Sypha said her goodbyes to her grandfather—again.

“Watch out for the night creatures,” Sypha insisted as Nicolae straightened her robes for her. “They’ve been getting active earlier in the day. And also for bandits—there was a man who put wheels on his boat—”

“The Pirate of the Roads, yes,” Nicolae said, smiling and shaking his head at the memory. “We’ve met. Bit of an eccentric but ultimately harmless.”

Sypha hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder and inhaling the smell of smoke and horses and grass. “I’m going to miss you, Grandfather.”

“I’ll miss you too, my angel,” Nicolae said. “May the roads you travel be full of stories.”

“And yours as well.” Sypha closed her eyes when Nicolae pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Nicolae said. Trevor extended a hand, and Sypha let him help her into the wagon. “Come back to me when you can.”

Sypha waved until the Speaker encampment was out of sight, and she slumped against Trevor, wrapping her hands around his arm.

“We’ll see them again soon enough,” Trevor promised her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She was grateful for the warmth, the weight. It made her feel safe.

“I know,” Sypha said. She sighed and waved a hand. “I just worry about them, worry about Lucian and Alucard…”

Trevor grunted. “Well, no sense worrying about stuff that can’t be helped,” he said, and Sypha frowned at him. “We’re on our way back to the hold to find out what’s going on, but until then—there’s other things to think about.”

“Like what?” Sypha asked grumpily. She knew he meant well, but he really could try to be nicer about it.

“There’s a fishing village on the river about twenty miles east,” Trevor said. “Broşteni, I think it was called, I’d have to consult the map. But if we make good time, we could be sleeping in a bed again tonight.”

Sypha liked the sound of that.

* * *

Aside from a lone, injured night creature they found limping along the road a little after midday, the journey to Broşteni was uneventful. Sypha kept turning the pipe over in her hands while Trevor kept the horses on track, the both of them trying to figure out where it could have come from and why.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dracula had a distance mirror in that castle of his,” Trevor said at one point. “But why wouldn’t they have come through to talk to us? Why the pipe? I think I’d sooner give up drinking before Lucian got rid of that thing.”

“The day you give up drinking, I’ll don a wimple and join a convent,” Sypha teased, and Trevor let go of the reins with one hand to muss her hair.

They found Broşteni just as twilight was creeping across the land. The pair of disheveled sentries let them through after a few well-chosen words from Sypha, though she and Trevor were warned that they likely wouldn’t be granted lodging—and they were right.

“Well, who wants to sleep in a bed, anyway?” Trevor said when they were turned away from the inn, though he looked annoyed. “I much prefer this leaky old wagon.”

“You get used to it,” Sypha said dejectedly. A storm front was moving in from the east, and lightning flashed in the distance. It would have been a good night to spend indoors, but it seemed like their luck wasn’t to hold.

Rain began drizzling down, splattering in heavy drops against the canvas that stretched over the wagon. Trevor grumbled, but motioned for Sypha to stay behind while he unhitched the horses and tied them to the side of the wagon. They’d spend the night on the street and move on in the morning; the scant protection of Broşteni’s walls were better than nothing.

Trevor was just hitching the second horse to the side of the wagon when he heard a pathetic meowing, accompanied by drunken laughter. He turned, eyes narrowing when he saw a stray tabby cat pawing at a man who’d just left the inn, begging for the food it could no doubt smell on him.

“‘Ey there, lil puss,” the man said. “Looking for scraps, are ye? Too fuckin’ bad!” His foot shot out and connected with the tabby’s ribs, sending the cat flying with a yowl.

Trevor was moving forward before he had a chance to think. He stomped on the man’s instep, feeling bones crunch under his heel, and when the man doubled over in pain, the heel of Trevor’s hand slammed into his nose. The man reeled back with a yell, and his shin and then femur split from the force of Trevor’s attacks before small hands were pulling the back of his cloak.

“Trevor!” Sypha said, dragging him backwards.

“What the _fuck_ was that for?!” Trevor snarled at the man.

He was curled on the ground as rain continued to fall, clutching his leg and howling. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” he yelled. “My leg! Oh God, my leg!”

“ _Trevor,_ ” Sypha said through gritted teeth as doors began flying open along the street.

“Okay, I know it looks bad,” Trevor said when the guard approached, eyeing them suspiciously, “but he started it.”

The man could only lie on the ground and sob.

“ _Out!_ ” one of the guards snapped, jabbing his pike at Trevor. “Take your Speaker whore with you and get out! And be glad we’re letting you leave with your li—”

A high-pitched screech, accompanied by an earthshaking roar split the night.

“It’s Dracula!” a woman shrieked, and the villagers who’d emerged from their houses to see the commotion retreated in an instant, doors slamming shut one by one and lanterns in windows blown out.

“So much for a quiet night,” Trevor said, unfurling the Morning Star.

“I think you already ruined our chances for that,” Sypha said, conjuring a row of icicles in front of her. She nodded at one of the guards. “Get that man to safety,” she said. “We’ll handle this.”

“ _Witch_ —” the guard began, when a leathery-winged beast sank its talons into his arms, lifting him into the air with a shriek.

Sypha whirled, directing her icicles at the monster’s wings and piercing them full of holes. It spiralled out of control and crashed into a stall, and the guard was able to yank himself free with a scream.

A massive beast with the head of a hooded snake and the body of a leopard came galloping down the main road, and Trevor’s arm shot forward, the Morning Star wrapping around a fang nearly as tall as he was. He swung up as the night creature went careening past, twisting in the air to land on its shoulders. The beast roared, trying to throw him, and Trevor clung to the scaly flaps of its hood before yanking back on the Morning Star. The fang snapped loose in a spray of blood, and Trevor lost his grip when the monster reared back, slamming him against the roof of a nearby building.

“Serpopard, ” Trevor grunted. “ _Rude._ ”

The serpopard snarled at him, long neck twisting to lunge at him. Trevor danced sideways out of the way, mindful of the loose thatch beneath his feet, and ran forward, whirling the Morning Star in a wide arc to strike the serpopard in the face.

It roared and an explosion shattered the night, but the monster’s head shot down to strike at him, seemingly oblivious to the gaping hole blown in the side of its face.

“Trevor!” Sypha yelled, and he could only stare in awe as she thrust her hands behind her, fire shooting from her palms with enough force to launch her into the sky. 

Sypha landed just behind the beast’s head, gripping with her knees as she summoned a lance of ice to her hands and drove it into the thing’s skull. She remained clinging to it even as it teetered and toppled to the ground with an earth-shattering _THUD._

Trevor jumped down from the roof, landing in a crouch to absorb the impact before straightening up. Sypha folded her hands, and the ice she’d conjured melted, running across the cobblestones and into the gutter.

“You,” Trevor said, shaking his head, “are amazing.”

Sypha caught his waist and reeled him in for a gentle, lingering kiss. “You weren’t half bad yours—”

“OUT!” 

They turned to see four guards, blades aimed at them, but trembling in hand. 

“I said get out!” a man with a bushy moustache said, pointing to the eastern gate. “And if you ever set foot in our town again—!”

“You’ll, what, kill us when you couldn’t even kill these night creatures?” Trevor scoffed.

Sypha put a hand on his arm, and he pushed his hair out of his eyes, wet from the steady fall of rain.

“Hitch up your horses and _leave_ ,” the guard snarled. “Now!”

Trevor wanted to fight back, to draw his sword, to defend him and Sypha from their accusations, but he let his hand fall, shoulders loose in defeat.

“We’ll be gone in a moment,” Sypha said, drawing Trevor over to the wagon and beginning to untie one of the horses to hitch it up to the wagon. “Please hold your weapons until then.”

“OUT.”

“Calm the fuck down,” Trevor said, slowly recoiling the Morning Star on his hip and edging toward the wagon. “We’re leaving now. Okay?”

By way of response, the guard just brandished his weapon at Trevor.

He hated turning his back on a threat, but Trevor did so to help Sypha re-hitch the horses. The rain was coming down harder, now, drenching the pair of them to the skin despite their treated cloaks. Regardless, though, they worked quickly, and soon their wagon was rolling out of the village and into the dark, unwelcoming woods.

“Well,” Trevor said as the gates slammed shut behind them. “That was a warm welcome, wasn’t it?”

Sypha just shot him a tired glare.


	26. Chapter 26

Lucian was sprawled on her back on the floor of one of the libraries, cloak pooled under her, sound asleep with a book of volcanology tented on her face as she snored quietly. Soft footsteps echoed in her dreams, but it wasn’t until the book was lightly lifted off her face that she jolted awake, disoriented until her eyes focused on Taka crouched over her.

“What time is it?” she yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m not sure,” he said, handing her the book. “A little past midnight, I think; I couldn’t sleep, so I went exploring.”

Lucian looked around, and seeing her lights had gone out, she concentrated, sending out another handful of them to light up the area around them. Taka inhaled sharply, turning to look at them.

“I know, it’s a bit freaky, isn’t it?” Lucian said apologetically, but Taka shook his head. 

“I think they’re wonderful,” he said. “Would you come with me?”

Lucian glanced at the piles of books on the floor around where she’d been laying and shrugged. “Sure, I guess?” She began tidying up, just enough she wouldn’t feel guilty leaving them there to come back to later.

Taka joined in, helping her stack them into neat piles on the floor. “What were you reading about?” he asked, holding up a thick Latin tome.

“Oh—volcanoes,” Lucian said, stacking the last of the books and straightening up, cracking her back as she did so. “Mountains that sometimes spew plumes of smoke and rivers of melted rock. They’re fascinating.”

“We had those in Japan,” Taka mused as they set off through the library’s shelves, Lucian’s lights accompanying them. “Sumi and I never saw any ourselves, but we heard stories while we traveled.”

Lucian’s eyes lit up. “Japan’s supposed to be a whole arc of volcanoes, isn’t it?” she said excitedly. “I mean, the Eastern Sea is said to be surrounded by loads of volcanoes and great tremors of earth, but Japan’s reported to have over a hundred volcanoes, most of them quite explosive—”

Taka laughed quietly, holding up a hand to cut her off. “I think I get the picture,” he said. “Walk with me?”

“Where are we going?” Lucian asked, tugging her tunic and cloak straight.

Taka shrugged. “I’m just exploring. Unless you have any places in particular you think would be interesting to visit.”

After a moment’s thought, Lucian felt herself quivering with excitement, built up until she absolutely had to let it out. _Ffft-fft-fft-fft-fft—_

“Yes!” she said, grabbing Taka’s hand and pulling him after her. “The observatory tower! I don’t know if that’s the name for it but it’s so beautiful up there, especially at night!” Her lights zipped along with them as she dragged Taka up a staircase (where she had to pause to catch her breath), along a corridor, up another staircase (and another pause to wheeze), and Taka laughed softly behind her as she led him through the castle.

They emerged in a glass-roofed tower, the centrepiece of the room an enormous, gleaming brass telescope. Above them glittered a thousand thousand stars, and Lucian craned her head back, smiling at the pale light that threw shadows into stark contrast across the floor.

“This is incredible,” Taka gasped. He turned, taking in every detail, before gesturing to the telescope. “How does that work?”

“I’m not sure,” Lucian admitted, going over to it. “I found this place on my own; Alucard never showed me how it works. But…” She put her eye to the lens and twisted the focusing ring until the stars overhead were sharply defined for her, and she tilted it up slightly until the Little Dipper came into view. “Here.”

She stepped aside, and Taka mimicked her, putting his eye to the lens. “The Northern Star,” he breathed.

“Polaris,” Lucian said, nodding. 

“We used that to navigate when we travelled at night,” Taka said, not drawing away. He remained transfixed to the telescope. “It looks so big now.”

“Right?” Lucian sighed. “I would sometimes sit up in the bell tower of the cathedral and watch the stars, but they look so much closer through that.”

Taka pulled back and glanced at her. “Cathedral?”

“Oh—Alucard must not have told you,” Lucian said, wondering why Taka frowned. “I was raised as a boy in the service of the church; I was ordained as a priest and everything before I met him.”

“Interesting.” Taka gestured at the lights. “And is that why—?”

Lucian held up a hand, calling forth another ball of radiance between her fingers. “No, that’s something else,” she said. “We’ve only got theories, but…” She trailed off, staring into the light, pupils shrinking.

“Lucian?”

She snapped out of her daze, and the light in her hand vanished. “Hm?”

Taka gestured at the light in her hand. “What else can you do?”

“Healing, mostly,” Lucian said, scrunching up her face while she thought. “Um, repairing things? Multiplying food—oh! And this.” She held out her arms and her feet slowly lifted off the ground until she was significantly higher than Taka.

He stared in disbelief before shaking his head. “You are remarkable,” he said. He tilted his head, studying her as she alighted back on the floor. “Is there a limit to your healing?”

Lucian grimaced. “Unfortunately, yeah,” she said. “I’ve been getting stronger, but I can’t keep it up forever. It’s like… too much magic and I just drain out like a bucket with a hole in it.”

Taka nodded thoughtfully. “That healing,” he said. “Is it just for yourself or others?”

“Both,” Lucian said. She paused, something gnawing in the pit of her stomach. “...Why?”

He smiled easily at her. “I’m curious,” he said. “I’ve never met somebody like you before.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Might we see more of the castle?”

They descended the staircase and were walking through a corridor full of portraits when they heard a sleepy voice behind them. “Taka?”

“Sumi?” he said, turning around.

She emerged from the shadows, clad only in her loaned nightshirt and yawning. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Lucian showed me the observatory,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I couldn’t sleep, so I went exploring.”

Sumi looked wide awake after that. “See anything interesting?”

“I mean, we only went to the observatory,” Lucian said. “I could show you too, if you like?” she offered, even if she dreaded the idea of climbing up all those stairs again.

To her relief, Sumi shook her head. “I’ll find it later,” she said, and shivered. Lucian noticed, and pulled off her cloak to drape it around Sumi’s shoulders. The other woman nodded gratefully at her. 

“Actually, there was something I was hoping you could show us,” Taka said, and Sumi shot him a look. “You mentioned the machinery used to move the castle? Could we see it?”

“I mean, there’s not much to see,” Lucian said, but at their crestfallen faces, she relented. “Alright—this way.”

“What are you doing awake, anyway?” Sumi asked as Lucian led them deeper into the bowels of the castle.

Lucian smiled, a little sheepishly. “I actually wasn’t,” she said. “Taka found me asleep in one of the libraries.”

“She had a book on her face,” Taka added helpfully, and Lucian blushed when Sumi laughed at that.

“So you really do miss meals in favour of reading?” Sumi asked.

Lucian picked at the sleeve of her shirt. “Yeah,” she said. “Alucard scolds me something fierce when I do.”

“You said he never showed you the observatory,” Taka said when Lucian ducked through a tapestry into a hidden corridor. “Does he not trust you with the castle’s secrets?”

“Oh, he does,” Lucian said, wondering where he was going with this. “He’s just not really inclined to talk about them a whole lot, but he tells me if I ask.”

“And you trust him in turn?” Sumi asked.

Lucian glanced at her. “Of course,” she said. “With my life.”

Sumi smiled at her. “If he feels the same way about you, that must be a strong bond.”

Icy fingers gripped Lucian’s heart, but she smiled wanly. “We fought together,” she said. “Well, he fought, I was just… sort of there.”

“That sounds like quite the story,” Taka said, and Lucian shrugged a shoulder.

“I guess,” she said. “Maybe in time.”

She led them deeper into the bowels of the castle, getting lost several times before they emerged into the engine room. Lucian stopped on the threshold, even as Sumi and Taka moved deeper inside, gaping at the melted steelworks.

“I did say,” Lucian murmured.

Taka turned to her. “You said you could repair things? What about this?” He swept an arm out at the destruction, and Lucian stepped forward, studying the dripping metal frozen in time.

“I… maybe?” she said uncertainly. “I’ve never done anything larger than a plate before. Or maybe a gown—”

Sumi put a hand on her arm, eyes crinkling in a gentle smile. “We’re not asking you to,” she said softly. “We were just curious about the extent of your abilities, that’s all.”

Lucian ducked her head, not quite able to look either of them in the eye. “I haven’t even discussed it with Alucard yet,” she mumbled. “I mean, if I did… but also there’s the… and what if…” She trailed off, tapping her fingers together when she saw Sumi and Taka watching her expectantly. “I could try?”

They were silent, but she could see the curiosity, the desire in their eyes, and she closed her own, holding out her arms. Her body thrummed with holy energy, and she felt her feet lift off the floor, hovering however high, she didn’t know and couldn’t tell. 

Lucian was enveloped with light, and Sumi and Taka shielded their eyes against her radiance as light burst forth from her, leaving her to collapse on the floor, the mechanisms in the same state they'd been earlier.

“Are you okay?” Sumi asked, rushing over to Lucian and shaking her shoulder. 

Lucian lifted her head with a quiet groan. “That might’ve been a bad idea,” she rasped.

Sumi pulled her into a hug. “Don’t strain yourself again like that,” she said. “Work up to it; you do nobody any favours wearing yourself out.”

Lucian initially stiffened at her touch, unused to the embrace, the closeness. But a split second later, she hugged Sumi back, resting her chin on the other woman’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Lucian murmured. “I’ll remember that going forwards. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Taka said, letting his hand rest on Lucian’s back. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”


	27. Chapter 27

“I’m just saying, I’m the only one who can’t fly now.”

“Maybe if you studied a little magic, one day years from now, you could be as good as me,” Sypha said, blowing out an imaginary flame on her fingertip.

Trevor rolled his eyes and glanced back at the werewolf’s corpse tied behind the wagon. “You know that’s one, completely impractical, and two, never going to happen.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t complain about not being able to fly,” Sypha said, elbowing him gently.

Trevor elbowed her back as the town drew closer. “Let’s hope our little gift makes us a bit more welcome this time, eh?” he murmured.

The wagon rolled through the gate of the hamlet to the murmurs of townsfolk, and Trevor tugged the horses to a stop in the middle of the main road, where he was sure plenty of people would get the chance to see their prize lashed to the wagon.

He hopped down from the driver’s seat and went around the wagon to meet a bald man in dark robes, smiling easily as he approached. “So.” He cleared his throat, looking around at the villagers who were staring at him and at the werewolf at his feet. “Had you been having problems with a night creature pack outside your lovely town?”

“If you mean, ‘Were terrible naked bastards from Hell trying to eat people in the forest’, then yes,” the bald man said, moving to stand in front of Trevor.

“Ah,” Trevor said, glancing behind him. “So had the village down the road. They told us the pack had been hitting travelers and transports; my partner and I decided to take care of that for you.” He looked around at the small, but well-built houses, at the people with common but finely-crafted clothing. “Where are we?”

“This is Lindenfeld,” the man said, gesturing around him. 

“The minster town!” Sypha said, jumping down from the driver’s seat as well. “The spire we saw from the road belongs to the priory, yes?”

“Oh,” the man said as he took in Sypha’s blue robes. “You’re a Speaker? We haven’t seen any of your people in some while.”

Trevor’s hand twitched toward the Morning Star, but the tone wasn’t hostile, and he refrained from gripping the hilt quite yet.

The man bowed. “It’s a genuine honour. I’m the Judge of Lindenfeld.”

“A township judge!” Sypha exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She leaned up toward Trevor, though she barely bothered to lower her voice as she added, “That is a very old term for the headman and landlord of a town, from the time before boyars and lords. What is your name?” She raised her voice again, addressing the Judge with her last sentence.

He smiled faintly and placed a hand on his chest. “I’m simply the Judge. And you are?”

Sypha opened her mouth, but footsteps drawing closer caught Trevor’s ear and he straightened slightly. “Wait a moment.”

They turned to see a group of barefoot men in dark robes with green bands of cloth on their left arms approaching. There was something about the wide stare of the man in front that left the hairs on the back of Trevor’s neck standing on end.

“Those are monks of the priory,” the Judge said, eyeing them and lowering his voice. “Take care. They are somewhat… ah, _broken_.”

_Broken_ was too kind a word for it. There was something deeply, deeply unsettling about the way the monks spoke of Dracula with reverence, and when the Judge urged them to move along, Trevor turned to him.

“What the Hell was that?”

“We suffered an attack during the recent troubles,” the Judge said, his voice low. “It was a difficult night for the priory.”

“When was this attack?” Sypha asked suddenly, stepping closer. “It wouldn’t happen to be a week and three days ago, would it?”

“...As a matter of fact, yes,” the Judge said slowly. “How did you know?”

“I think,” Trevor said, catching on to what Sypha was asking, “we got a message from a friend.”

* * *

Sypha peeled off her outer robe and sat on the edge of the bed to kick off her shoes, stretching out on the straw-stuffed mattress with a contented sigh. “Oh, it feels good to be out of that wagon,” she said happily.

“Budge up, you’re hogging the entire bed,” Trevor said, bumping her hand aside with his hip as he made to sit down. Sypha retaliated with a sharp pinch to his backside before yanking her hand away when Trevor tried to swat it.

“What?” she said innocently when he mock-glared at her. “You have a nice bum and I’m well within my rights to pinch it.”

Trevor moved to cover her in an instant, supporting himself on either side of her just enough that his weight wasn’t pressing her into the mattress. Sypha grinned up at him and stole a quick kiss, but the smile faded and she nudged him to move. 

He rolled off of her, propping himself up on one elbow as she turned to face him.

“That attack the Judge mentioned,” Sypha said. “It happened the night before we found the pipe.”

Trevor nodded, brow creasing. “Can’t be a coincidence, can it? It seems too easy.”

Sypha pulled out the pipe, tapping the bowl against her palm. “Maybe Lucian intended for us to come this way,” she said. “Like she knew our route back would take us through here.”

Trevor snorted. “How hard could it have been to leave a fucking note in that case?” he asked. “‘ _By the way, there are crazy Dracula-worshiping monks in Lindenfeld, go there_ ’ or something?”

“Lucian works in mysterious ways?” Sypha suggested, and laughed when Trevor swung one of the pillows at her. She caught it and threw it back at him. “We can ask her when we return. But, Trevor…”

“You think we should stay.”

“Just for a little while,” Sypha said. “Just until we get to the bottom of—”

“I agree.” Trevor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear only for it to fall free, too short to stay in place. “Lucian and Alucard can look after themselves, they’ll be fine if we take a few days longer to get to them. Besides,” he added, grinning wryly, “I’m sure they like the privacy.”

Sypha’s eyebrows flew up at that. “You don’t think—?”

“With the way Lucian was mooning after that pasty-faced walking twig?” Trevor snorted. “He’d have to be blind to miss it. Or stupid. Actually, my money’s on the latter.”

Sypha swatted his arm. “You are _not_ a subtle man, Trevor Belmont.”

“What? No, really,” Trevor said, bemused. “What?”

“It’s okay that you fancy him, but it’s _very_ childish to hide it behind insults.”

Trevor began spluttering and sat up, staring at Sypha. She just watched him, her mouth curled in a smile.

“I—you—Sypha, he’s a _guy_ ,” Trevor finally tried.

This didn’t seem to make a lick of difference to her. “And?” Her eyebrow arched further.

“ _I’m_ a guy.”

“You weren’t nearly this flustered when Arn and his partner invited me to bed,” Sypha noted, and Trevor’s cheeks heated up. 

“That’s different,” Trevor said.

“How so?”

“They’re them. I’m not.”

“How astute of you,” Sypha said dryly.

Trevor groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Look, _if_ we’re inviting Lucian to share a bed with us and the fanged freak comes as part of the deal, that’s it.”

Sypha held up her hands and lay back against the pillows. “ _If_ ,” she agreed. “And you _are_ running on the assumption they’re together.”

“Look how quickly we hooked up,” Trevor pointed out, and Sypha grinned up at the ceiling.

“Speaking of,” she said, and sat up, hooking a finger into the collar of his shirt to pull him forward, “what do you say I show you all the ways I’m _much_ better than a stein of beer?”

And Trevor had to admit when Sypha was astride his face that this was, indeed, much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles for the chapter include "It's Not Gay if It's a Four Way" and "In Which Trevor Refuses to Question His Fragile Heterosexuality by Eating Pussy".


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not Castlevania without some blood and gore, but this one's pretty nasty. Hopefully the purpose for the chapter will more than make up for it.

The ring of steel in the forest was becoming a common sound. Lucian sat under her favourite tree, cross-legged and fidgeting on the spot as she watched Alucard spar with Sumi and Taka. She itched to join in, but just walking up a flight of stairs still left her winded. Sparring was out of the question in the meantime.

But until she could train with them, she could watch and learn. When Alucard gave them directions and pointers, he always raised his voice slightly so Lucian could catch his every word.

Today the focus of the lesson was footwork, knowing effective range, and how to read the opponent. Lucian tried to focus, really tried, but being the only person outside who wasn’t doing anything was terribly dull. So she rose from her place in the shade, approaching just enough she’d be noticed but far enough away she wouldn’t get in the way of the sparring.

Alucard noticed her and called for a halt. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just… really hot out here,” Lucian lied.

“We’re the ones doing all the work,” Sumi protested, wiping a sheen of sweat from her forehead.

“If you’re not feeling well, go on in,” Alucard said. “You know where we are if you need me.”

Lucian nodded, swallowing down jealousy that Sumi and Taka would have Alucard to themselves. It wasn’t like she’d had his undivided attention for the last six weeks—and she was not a child to squabble over Alucard like he was a toy to be shared.

“Honestly, Enache, grow up,” she muttered to herself, brushing bits of grass off her tunic as she headed inside.

She was restless. Though Sumi and Taka settled in well at the castle, she couldn’t help miss the easy routine she and Alucard had fallen into. Maybe she just needed some time to get used to the new normal, and then everything would be okay again.

Her feet carried her aimlessly through the castle, and Lucian allowed herself to wander, fingers trailing over stone walls and rich tapestries. She loved the feeling of the different textures under her fingers, imagining the hands that came before her to create them.

As she turned up a tightly-wound spiral staircase, the faint smell of decay hit her nose, growing stronger as she edged forward uncertainly. 

Lucian gagged and pulled the neck of her tunic over her nose, eyes watering. A cold dread settled over her stomach, and she wanted to just turn tail and flee back downstairs, to the warmth—to Alucard.

She paused at the edge of a puddle of black, viscous liquid that dripped slowly onto the step in front of her, and she grimaced before drifting over the top of it so as not to ruin her shoes. The stench was unbearably strong, and Lucian pressed her covered face into the crook of her elbow when she reached the top of the stairs, breathing shallowly through her mouth in a futile effort to not smell it.

The puddle grew thicker, and Lucian rounded a corner and nearly vomited. 

A large stone altar of some sort dominated the centre of the room, and against one wall lay a pile of corpses that had been left there so long to rot they’d started to liquify, horrifyingly visible in the sunlight that streamed through the large, arched window at the back of the room.

A quiet snuffling came from the corner. 

Lucian bit hard on her knuckle, swallowing down a scream as she tried to pinpoint the source of the noise.

A tiny pug emerged from the shadows, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Half its face was rotted away, as was one of its front legs, leaving exposed bone. Its fur colour was impossible to determine under the congealed, decaying filth that coated it, but it cocked its head and sat back on its haunches, whining piteously.

Lucian was both repulsed and intrigued. It didn’t seem like a monster, even if it was very obviously undead. But if it weren’t for the glowing eye and missing body parts, it seemed like an ordinary dog otherwise.

“H-hey, little guy?” she stuttered, drifting backwards. The pug whined again and edged closer to her, and Lucian wrinkled her nose at the stink that clung to it. "Good dog? Nice dog?" Backwards down the hallway, not taking her eyes off it, until she hit a wall and froze, watching the pug come closer. 

It whined softly again and Lucian checked the floor beneath her was free of rot, and seeing it was, tentatively set down and crouched, holding out a hand even as she grimaced at the thought of touching it. She shuddered at the sliminess under her fingers when the pug pushed its head into her hand, and it was only with all of her willpower she managed not to cringe away.

The pug licked her wrist with a tiny tongue, feeling oddly warm and alive as a real dog. Lucian shuddered even as she smiled, disgust and delight warring over her. She could _feel_ the unholy magic used to reanimate the body, but the dog was so genuinely warm that it seemed a crime to leave it here, alone in a room of rotting dead.

“Oh God, this is gonna suck,” she muttered. “C’mere, you sweet thing.” Gingerly, after several attempts to work up the nerve to do so, she used both hands to pick the pug up under its front legs, figuring if it was undead, not holding it properly wouldn’t hurt it. Keeping the pug at arm’s length in front of her, head tilted as far away from it as possible, she carried it down the stairs to the nearest washroom, and it wriggled and yipped happily in her hands, curled tail wagging.

She had to pause several times on her way back down to catch her breath, gagging whenever the stench worked its way into her mouth and nose. It felt like hours before she managed to get downstairs, and not for the first time, she cursed the pneumonia.

Lucian used her elbow to turn the tap and plonked the dog in the bath, gagging in relief to clean her hands from the _stuff_ she didn’t want to think too carefully about. She scrubbed her hands before turning to the dog, who was splashing happily in the water. 

Plugging the tub would just result in it turning filthy, so Lucian left the tap running, the water rinsing the gore away down the drain as she grabbed a bar of lye soap and began scrubbing.

“You’re just a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Lucian cooed, and the pug flipped over onto its back. Lucian took advantage of the moment to get rid of the filth caked on its belly. Or his, rather.

“Good boy,” Lucian said, and laughed when the pug’s leg began twitching when she found just the right spot to scratch. “Did you belong to one of the vampires here? Oh, you poor thing, you must have been so lonely all by yourself. Guess the bodies didn’t bother you, though.” She paused, shuddered, and resolved to ask Alucard how they were possibly to clear out _that_ mess. 

The pug held unnaturally still for her while she cleaned around its eye socket and leg bones, careful of the peeling skin. Lucian gagged again and turned her away, and the dog whined, head tilting to the side and remaining ear flopping inside-out.

“It’s nothing, boy,” Lucian said, and went back to work. “Do you have a name? You must have, but you don’t have a collar.”

The pug lifted a leg to scratch behind his ear. His coat was a glossy black under the water, and Lucian ran a hand over his back; he seemed in remarkably good shape otherwise, for something dead.

“Well, I can’t just call you ‘Dog’,” Lucian said, taking a paw in hand and cleaning out decay from between his toes. “What about…?” Her thoughts drifted to the stories Alucard had been reading to her, and she smiled. “Kerberos? Be better if you had two more heads, but you can’t have everything.”

The pug began licking his shoulder, and Lucian fondled the top of his head, ignoring the chills the unholy energy sent up her arm. “Kerberos it is, then.”

Kerberos yipped at her, and Lucian splashed a bit of water at him, glancing down toward the drain. The water in the tub was finally running clear, and she turned off the tap, grabbing a towel and wrapping Kerberos in it, cradling him against her chest.

“Poor thing left all alone down there,” she said. “You didn’t ask to be turned into this.”

Kerberos whined again, and his tongue flopped out of his mouth.

“Welp.” Lucian straightened up, shifting Kerberos to the crook of one elbow so she had a free hand. “Guess I’d better show you to the others, huh?” She tickled Kerberos’ stomach through the towel; now that he was clean, he smelled not of death, but of wet dog. Ordinarily she would have wrinkled her nose at the smell, but now, it was a welcome relief.

She headed downstairs, just in time to find Alucard, Sumi, and Taka coming inside for lunch; Sumi was clinging to Alucard’s back like a spider-monkey, and Lucian froze at the sight of Sumi’s arms around Alucard’s shoulders, her legs around his waist.

“Lucian?” Alucard asked, and Sumi slid off his back. “What do you have there?”

“I, uh.” Lucian glanced down at Kerberos. “I found a dog?”

“A dog?” Taka asked, moving forward to see. He took one look at Kerberos’ half-rotted face and leapt back, reaching for his knife.

“No!” Lucian said, turning her shoulder to Taka to shield Kerberos.

Alucard caught Taka’s hand, pushing the other man behind him as he came to see for himself. His eyes widened slightly, and he held out his arms. “May I?” he asked, when Lucian hesitated.

She reluctantly turned Kerberos over to Alucard, who studied the pug, face inscrutable. 

“I’m guessing he wasn’t here before you left?” Lucian said tentatively, and Alucard shook his head. 

“I think he must have belonged to one of my father’s forgemasters,” he said. 

“Forgemasters?” Sumi asked, but Alucard looked up at Lucian.

“Where did you find him?”

Lucian felt her stomach turn over. “In… a room upstairs,” she said, and Alucard passed Kerberos back to her. She hugged the undead dog, breathing in the clean smell of his fur like it could drive out the memory of the stench. “There were bodies in there, so many bodies—they were _oozing_.”

Sumi and Taka looked faintly green at this. Alucard simply nodded and motioned for them to follow him to the kitchen.

“We’ll take care of it after lunch,” he said, and Sumi and Taka exchanged glances as they passed.

Lucian let the others go ahead of her, not entirely sure she wanted to leave Kerberos open to attack until they were used to him. Not that she was, either, but she was fairly certain by now that he wasn’t some slavering, bloodthirsty monster.

Lunch was a simple affair of cold pheasant pies with gravy, and Kerberos sat at Lucian’s feet under the table. Lucian merely picked at her food before feeding bits of it to the resurrected dog, her appetite thoroughly killed by the thought of going back to the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE GOOD BOY'S BACK.


	29. Chapter 29

Lucian was sprawled on her bed, Kerberos on her chest while she held a book of zoology over her head, tongue stuck between her teeth as she read.

Or, rather, tried to read. She realised that her eyes kept skimming over the same paragraph, and with a sigh, tossed the book aside to land on the bed. Kerberos lifted his head, tail thumping on her stomach.

“Sure,” Lucian sighed, and picked him up to set him on the floor. “C’mon, boy, let’s go for a walk.” She clicked her fingers at the ball of light by her shoulder, directing it to follow them.

Kerberos was right at her heels as she walked through the castle, thumbs hooked through her belt. She gnawed her lip as she thought.

It had been two months since her mother and brother burned to death in their house. She’d seen them so infrequently before that now she couldn’t even picture their faces, just glimpses of memory: Gavril’s smile, the brush of Mama’s dark curls falling over her shoulder.

Eventually, she found herself on one of the many arching walkways between the towers, and Lucian perched on the wall, pulling Kerberos onto her lap. He curled up and put his nose on his front paws, and Lucian let her legs dangle over the edge. She wasn’t afraid to fall.

The night was still young, but the stars were already out in their full brilliance. Lucian tipped her head back, picking out the constellations she’d learned from Alucard’s books. 

She wondered if you could see the stars from Heaven. Though, she supposed, it wouldn’t be Heaven if you couldn’t.

Her fingers brushed over Kerberos’ fur. “Lord,” she murmured. “I know I’m far from the most pious of Your servants, but I hope I’ve at least been using these abilities You blessed me with for good. Though do You even care about that? I used to believe You were benevolent, but so much death and destruction followed Your wrath.

“Did You even care when Dracula began his war on humanity? Or was that all part of Your plan?” Lucian’s hands stilled on Kerberos’ back. “Because if it was, if so many innocent people had to die for some great plan—if Gavril never lived to see eighteen because of it—You’re an utter bastard.”

“You sound like you have a lot on your mind,” Sumi said from behind her, and Lucian startled, turning in her seat. The other woman settled on the wall next to her, and Kerberos’ head perked up, lips pulling back from his teeth in a growl.

“Kerberos, _no_ ,” Lucian scolded, setting the dog down on the walkway. “No growling.”

Kerberos growled at Sumi again, but turned in a circle and lay down on the bridge.

“I do not like that dog,” Sumi said, glancing at him. “Why do you still keep it?”

“Because he’s cute?” Lucian said. She frowned slightly. “And he’s harmless.”

“It is undead.”

“...Well, yes…”

Sumi wrinkled her nose. “Just keep an eye on it.”

Lucian glanced down at Kerberos, who looked sound asleep. “Did you want something?”

“Just to talk,” Sumi said. “Though you seem busy.”

Lucian sighed and drew her knees up to her chest. “Not really,” she muttered. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“My family,” Lucian said quietly. “They died two months ago in one of Dracula’s attacks.”

“I’m sorry,” Sumi said. She put a hand on Lucian’s shoulder. “You must miss them very much.”

Lucian lifted the shoulder Sumi wasn’t touching. “I do. And… don’t? I never knew them very well, but I feel like I should be missing them more.”

“I understand,” Sumi said. “Sometimes I still miss the village we used to live in.”

“You said you and Taka were given to Cho,” Lucian said slowly.

Sumi nodded. “Cho would demand tribute from the towns near her fortress,” she said. “It was either give us up to her or be destroyed.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes.” Sumi looked out over the forest, her expression unreadable. “It’s why Taka and I need to learn how to fight vampires. It’s why we need to return home as soon as possible. So that what happened to us never happens to anyone else, ever again.”

“You’re lucky you have Alucard training you, then,” Lucian said. 

Sumi’s expression flickered. Lucian could have sworn she’d seen— _something_ , but the moment passed and Sumi nodded. “He is a good teacher,” she said. “Though guarded. We’ve been here nearly a month and I feel like I don’t know him.”

The corner of Lucian’s mouth twitched in a smile. “I’ve known him for two, and trust me, it doesn’t really change. He’s my friend, but he’s not the easiest person to get along with.”

“I trust you,” Sumi said. “But does Alucard?”

Lucian blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Does Alucard trust you?” Sumi said. 

“I… yeah?” Lucian said, though doubt gnawed at her stomach.

“So you know his secrets?” Sumi said. “The things he guards jealously? What have you learned about him in all that time?”

Lucian’s heels drummed against the wall while she thought. 

His father was Dracula. His mother, Lisa, was a human doctor. He was nineteen years old. Dracula had injured him badly enough he needed to take a year to hibernate beneath Gresit and heal. He could cook. He spoke a great deal of languages. He could build.

But she couldn’t say when he was born, not even the month. She didn’t know if he’d had any friends growing up, if he had lived alone with his family, if the castle remained in one place or if he travelled in it with his father. She didn’t know when he’d first picked up a sword, who had taught him how to cook, or even what his favourite food was.

She became aware of Sumi’s eyes on her, watching her intently. Lucian’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

The realisation stung, curling unpleasantly like a thorny vine around her heart.

Alucard didn’t trust her. 

Did he think so little of her that he couldn’t confide in her? She’d been certain he guarded himself out of fear of opening up painful memories… but did he not feel safe enough with her to do so?

Sumi patted her shoulder and slid off the wall. “It’s getting late. I’m heading to bed; you should sleep.”

Lucian nodded, resting her chin on her knees. She heard Sumi’s soft footsteps disappear back inside, and she closed her eyes.

The light beside her shoulder flickered and went out.

* * *

Lucian had withdrawn on herself.

Alucard couldn’t parse the reason, or reasons why; all he knew was that after they’d finished burning out the putrid remains of the bodies in the forgemaster's chamber, Lucian seemed to simply vanish from his life.

He had Sumi and Taka, and they were wonderful company: Sumi always ready with a quick joke and her bright laughter, Taka’s dry wit and sharp tongue to keep him on his toes.

But he missed Lucian’s gentle voice, her fingers carding through his hair, the warmth of her body pressed against his while he read to her. She barely came down for meals any more, and though he kept the leftovers out for her to help herself when she remembered to eat, he missed her presence at the table in the kitchen.

It was almost like she’d disappeared with Sypha and Trevor.

Sometimes, Alucard would feel eyes on him and he’d look up just in time to see Lucian drawing away from a balcony, that damn dog trotting at her heels.

Maybe that was what kept so much of her attention as of late; he tried not to read into her sudden absence too much. Especially since, like she’d said, the presence of Sumi and Taka after their isolation was overwhelming to her. She probably just needed space.

But in the meantime, their newfound friends had training, and with Lucian still recovering from her sickness, Alucard could focus on Sumi and Taka’s lessons.

Though, today was less training and more showing them one of the places he had yet to take them to: the Belmont Hold. He’d woken the pair at the crack of dawn, and Taka was bleary-eyed and yawning hugely, even though Sumi seemed mostly well-rested.

“You’ll have to forgive Taka,” she murmured, drifting closer to him. “He was up all night with Lucian.”

Alucard’s stride never faltered, though he felt something unpleasant jolt in his chest. “Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” Sumi said, and yawned. “He said something about exploring with her.”

“...I see,” Alucard said, and lengthened his stride, leaving the pair to fall into step behind him.

“She seems relieved to have other humans around,” Taka said, yawning hugely. “Though her new dog is… very off-putting.”

Well, at least it wasn’t just him. 

“Other humans?” Alucard asked, and Taka nodded, yawning again.

Sumi chimed in for him. “We’ve all been missing our families,” she said. “Lucian is missing her own, very dearly.”

Alucard’s heart twisted in his chest, but he nodded; Taka’s comments about ‘other humans’ kept bouncing around in his head despite his best efforts.

Was that really how Lucian saw him? As something other than human?

As something _lesser?_

He shoved the thoughts as far back in his mind as he could and led Sumi and Taka to the lift he and Lucian had built together. They descended into the Belmont Hold, his companions gaping as they went deeper and deeper underground.

If this wasn’t what Trevor felt, showing off the hold to the others the first time, Alucard figured it was a near enough thing. Showing Lucian the work he’d done with the lights had been wonderful, but something in Alucard’s heart sang when he watched Sumi and Taka’s faces light up when he pulled the lever to illuminate the hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at the audacity of these bitches


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna get brutal, guys. Buckle in.

Fire. Everywhere around her was on fire.

Lucian was back in that horrifying dream again, the dream that felt real. She stepped backwards, only for heat to sear against her back. When she twisted, she realised she’d nearly walked straight into another blazing house.

The entire town was burning, the souls of its inhabitants ripped away to go spiralling through the air to the church on the hilltop. Lucian began running, and then she was _there_ , among two dozen armed guards—and at the front of them were Trevor and Sypha and a third man she didn’t recognise.

“Sypha!” Lucian screamed, and she was dragged backwards through a whirl of colour, through pink and purple and green, and found herself standing in front of the beast from before.

Except now it was enormous, pinned to a beam by massive spikes driven through its hands and wrists, swelling, growing, absorbing the souls of the burning villagers above.

And the portal. 

When it opened, Lucian felt the pull become magnetic, irresistible, and she was drawn through, toes dragging along the ground.

Through fire and brimstone, through planes of ice, forests of petrified corpses, the overwhelming stench of evil in her nose, searing her body, her essence, her very soul. It felt like she was burning from the inside out.

Voices in her head, whispers, screams. 

The endless possibilities of time.

_Time._

Boundless. Infinite. No beginning and no end, it simply _was_. It had been there since before the beginning and would be there after the end.

This was real. This was painfully, absolutely real. Lucian screamed, a wordless sound, and then soft arms were wrapping around her in a warm embrace.

She looked up and felt her stomach drop out from under her. “ _Mama?_ ”

“Luce!” 

More arms around her from behind, and Lucian twisted to see Gavril, his mop of blond hair plastered to his head with sweat, beaming at her with the smile she thought she’d forgotten.

“Oh, sweet thing, you’ve grown up,” said a man, and Lucian turned yet again to see—

_Backwards, through the dark, through the fire and brimstone and ice and forests of the dead, fire and brimstone and ice and—_

Dracula. The woman from the portrait, her resemblance to Alucard overwhelmingly strong. Dracula reached out, and Lucian’s fingertips brushed against his in awe before she was tumbling through the dark again.

A pair of girls with a strong resemblance to Trevor. Laughing even as they played among the crags of ice and snow, so bitterly cold Lucian thought her blood would turn to ice in her veins.

Was this Hell? But how could it be, when people were with their loved ones, when there was laughter and joy?

No joy. No laughter. The colours swirled again and she was in a library, an indistinct figure whose long hair streamed towards the ground. She was upside-down, gravity nonexistent, and a man dressed in bright clothing leapt past her. He shouted something incomprehensible, and Lucian was shunted back out through the portal, even as she lunged toward it, desperately trying to return to her family.

“WAIT!” she screamed, and the portal slammed shut.

“...Lucian?” Trevor groaned, and she turned to see his arm around Sypha, the Speaker supporting him as they stared at her.

“Trevor! Sypha!” she gasped, running forward. “...You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Sypha said, glancing at Trevor. “But…”

Lucian nodded and placed her hands on his chest, gasping when she saw she was starting to fade away; her hands were transparent, the Belmont crest on Trevor’s tunic visible beneath them. “I don’t have much time,” she said as she concentrated on healing Trevor’s injuries. Massive internal damage. Bleeding. Not good. “Trevor, I saw—”

“How are you here?” Sypha asked as Trevor straightened up, letting his weight drop away from her shoulders. “We thought you were back at the castle!”

“I am,” Lucian protested. Her voice sounded so far away. “I’m there! Where are you?!”

“Lindenfeld,” Trevor said. Lucian’s vision was dimming, and Trevor and Sypha tried to grab her arms. Their hands passed through her. “Lucian!”

“I’m okay,” she said, growing fainter. “Come back to us safely, alright? We miss you.”

“Lu—”

Lucian jolted awake with a gasp. She could taste the acrid tang of smoke on her tongue, and she smacked her lips together as she sat up, shivering.

The last time, she’d thought it was just an unnerving dream, but now she was certain it was real—or at least, the events she’d seen had really happened.

Which meant her family was in Hell. Trevor’s family. Alucard’s family—or at least, his mother. Somehow, she wasn’t terribly surprised Dracula had been condemned.

“Why now, huh?” she murmured to Kerberos. The pug lifted his head from the bed, tail thumping at the sound of her voice.

Lucian pulled him to her chest, resting her head on top of Kerberos’. She realised she was trembling, and took several deep breaths to calm herself, trying to think of what to do next.

Tell Alucard, of course, but a quick glance out the window showed the sun had only barely risen, and she knew he wouldn’t be awake for a while yet. She _could_ wake him, but if she told him about his parents…

No, better to let him rest and enjoy his peace while he could.

“ _Mama_ ,” Lucian whispered, and bit back a strangled sob, hugging Kerberos tightly to her chest. The pug whined, paws scrabbling until she realised what she was doing and quickly let go, stammering apologies.

No harm, no foul. Kerberos didn’t seem too perturbed, and licked her cheek, his one glowing eye looking at her with concern.

“What a horrible night to have a dream like that, huh?” Lucian said, fondling Kerberos’ single ear.

He simply yipped and let his tongue loll out of his mouth, not a care in the world as he watched her.

Lucian sighed and got out of bed, going to the wardrobe to pull on fresh clothes for the day. “Alright, alright, come on.”

* * *

Kerberos didn’t need to eat, but he loved bones. Lucian buried herself in the icebox, rummaging around in search of Alucard’s stock pot. She found it shoved behind a basket full of greens and fished out a bone, tossing it lightly to Kerberos. The pug caught it in his mouth and began gumming it happily.

The soft whimpers of contentment brought her no small measure of joy, and Lucian sat on the floor next to Kerberos, fondling his ear again.

“I guess now I just wait for Alucard to wake up,” Lucian said. “He’s smart; I bet he could tell me why I’ve been having these dreams. And maybe even—”

She paused when the dog’s head shot up and he turned to the door, growling.

Now that she was listening, Lucian could hear soft footsteps outside that paused just on the other side of the kitchen door. She strained her ears; two sets. Sumi and Taka, because Alucard never made noise when he walked.

The footsteps moved away, and Lucian looked down at Kerberos, back to gnawing happily on his bone.

“You stay here, boy,” Lucian said, giving him one last pat before getting up. She went to the door, listening intently before slipping outside and following quietly.

Through the entry hall, down the massive front steps, and across the wide stretch of open space between the castle and the hold. Lucian was exposed as she padded through the grass, and she began composing an excuse if they turned and asked why she was following them—but they never did. She ducked behind a tree when they stepped onto the platform, and it lowered with a creaking of ropes.

They were speaking quietly to each other, but Lucian couldn’t make out the words before they sank out of audible range. She crept to the edge of the hole and peeked over it, watching as Sumi secured the hook at the bottom of the stairwell.

“What are you doing?” Lucian murmured to herself.

She hesitated. Sumi and Taka were their friends; she shouldn’t be spying on them. 

But her gut was screaming at her that something wasn’t right. She had to investigate.

Lucian stepped out into thin air and allowed herself to sink into the hold, alighting on the floor noiselessly. She took a deep breath to steady her shaking hands and she snuck into the library, jumping the balcony and sinking even further down to the lowest level so her feet wouldn’t make noise taking the stairs.

Sumi and Taka were crouched over the index on the lectern, heads together as they read.

Nothing suspicious about it at all. They were probably curious. 

Lucian’s stomach twisted.

She should leave. She couldn’t leave. What was going on?

“Silver won’t work,” Taka said, turning a page. “We need something stronger.”

Sumi frowned. “Cursed?”

“Most likely.”

“Fae nails,” Sumi said, tapping the index. “...No, too difficult to manage.”

“There’s enchanted rope,” Taka said.

Sumi pointed at something on the page. “For climbing, not restraining.”

“Damocles Chain?”

They looked at each other and nodded, setting off through the shelves.

_What the fuck was going on?_

Lucian stopped at the end of one row of shelves, watching as Taka picked up the silver bracelets near the crucifix she’d used to consecrate Trevor’s knives.

“That’s them?” Sumi said, peering at the cuffs.

“Apparently so,” Taka said, turning one of them over in his hands. “I wonder what sort of curse is powerful enough to trap a vampire in place.”

“I suppose we will find out with Alucard tonight.”

Lucian gasped. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late; Sumi and Taka turned to look at her, all traces of friendliness gone.

“Or we can find out now,” Taka said.

Lucian turned and ran, angling her body upwards. Her feet lifted off the ground, but Sumi and Taka were faster. They grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down, pinning her to the floor while she thrashed and screamed.

“ALUCARD! ALUCARD, _HELP!_ ” 

Her voice was swallowed by the depths of the Hold.

The bracelets were clapped onto her wrists, and Lucian screamed again, her body on fire as thin, silver cords snaked up her arms, across her chest, and down her legs, trapping her so completely she couldn’t move. The cords burned through her clothes and branded her skin with the sizzle of charred flesh, and the awful smell permeated the air.

“HELP ME! LET ME GO! PLEASE!”

Sumi pulled her knife from her belt and cut off a section of Lucian’s tunic, stuffing it into her mouth to silence her. 

Lucian pulled feebly against the restraints, tears streaming down her face. She could feel her body trying to heal, in vain. Whatever curse imbued the chains, it was dark, the sting of unholy energy almost more painful than the burns.

“It’s nothing personal against you,” Taka said, pulling his knife from his belt. Sumi readied her own, and Lucian’s eyes flickered frantically between them.

“But you’re too loyal to Alucard,” Sumi said. “Once we were done with him, it would have been you next.”

Lucian whimpered. _Alucard, please, please—help._

_I don’t want to die._

“We’ll try to make this quick,” Taka promised. “I hope for your sake you can turn off the healing.”

And then the stabbing began.

* * *

Alucard hadn’t seen Lucian all day. Kerberos trotted out of the kitchen when he’d gone down to make lunch, but the human he loved to shadow was nowhere to be seen. 

Sumi and Taka came in just as he was setting the finished sarmale out on plates; their hair was wet and they smelled like the stream.

“Out for a morning swim?” Alucard asked, pouring them some wine. The castle supply was starting to run low, but maybe he could ask Lucian to multiply the reserves so they wouldn’t have to go into the village.

Or maybe see if she couldn’t turn water into wine. Trevor would love that.

“We didn’t plan to, but it seemed like a good idea,” Sumi said, sitting down and taking a sip from her glass. “Alucard, you spoil us with your cooking.”

“Please,” he said, smiling. “It’s my pleasure.” He cocked an ear, listening for Lucian’s soft footsteps, but none were coming.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Taka said as Sumi began inhaling her food.

Alucard glanced at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Like you’re thinking about something important.”

“It’s nothing,” Alucard said quickly. 

Taka hummed. “After lunch, could we see some more of the castle?”

“I was actually thinking of drilling you again,” Alucard said. “Plenty of time to explore later.”

Sumi and Taka glanced at each other, but Sumi nodded, smiling. 

* * *

Still no sign of Lucian. Not at dinner, not during the day flitting from room to room of the castle, not even a whiff of her scent in the kitchen when he nipped down after dark. The bowl of borş lay cold and untouched on the table.

This was concerning.

_This wouldn’t be the first time Lucian had fallen asleep in one of the libraries,_ he told himself sternly. 

_And certainly not the first time she deliberately avoided you._

Alucard lay in bed atop the covers, tossing and turning. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable, and the thought of where Lucian was kept gnawing at him.

He wished he could have her in his bed curled up in his arms. He’d never wish her sickness upon her again, but being able to just relax with Lucian pressed against his side while he read was a warmth he desperately missed. Craved. 

The touch of another person, the smell, the weight pressing against him to reassure him he wasn’t alone. The first month, Lucian was like a balm, a steady presence to keep him grounded. But now she was withdrawn from him, and he was…

He was alone.

“Sleep, you idiot,” he muttered, turning onto his back. He stared up at the canopy of the bed, the gauzy white curtains he kept drawn back to let in the moonlight. Alucard huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring up at the ceiling. “Maybe I should get a coffin to sleep in.”

The door creaked open, and Alucard half-sat up, hope blooming in his chest that it was Lucian—but it was Sumi and Taka, dressed in their night shirts.

“What’s wrong?” Alucard asked urgently, sitting up the rest of the way.

“Nothing is wrong,” Taka said. He and Sumi approached, parting to go on either side of the bed.

“Everything’s fine,” Sumi said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Alucard.

Taka mirrored her, and they placed their hands on his chest. Alucard’s heart stuttered, and his breath hitched as he looked between them—not quite sure what was happening, certain he knew, and yet unable to believe that it was.

“You’ve been so alone,” Taka said gently, and his hand slid under the neck of Alucard’s nightshirt.

Sumi smiled, leaning in. “It’s time for your reward.”

* * *

Everything was a blur of hands and lips after that. Alucard gave himself over to them, completely, wholly. Sumi and Taka’s touch was so gentle, and he leaned into them, returned their kisses, craved their affection even as he tried to tell himself it was _them_ and not three others he was imagining in their place.

He’d never lain with anyone else before, and though he’d often wondered what it would be like, this was about as far from his imaginings as it could get. 

Alucard writhed under their hands, gasped when their mouths did things to him he could only fantasise about before, and whenever he tried to reciprocate, he was pushed down amid whispers that they would take care of him.

Tears sprang to his eyes and he let himself melt, unused to this touch, this gentleness. The only thing that could have made it better was—

No. He would enjoy this while it lasted and not waste time thinking on what could have been.

Overwhelming pleasure, his body convulsing under their ministrations, letting them use him for their own pleasure as well.

And then.

Their hands ran over his arms.

And then.

Searing, burning pain in his wrists, across his entire body as silver ropes wrapped around his body, pinning him to the bed. Alucard gasped, straining against the white-hot restraints, staring up in horror at Sumi and Taka as they picked up knives they’d hidden on either side of the bed.

“What’s happening?” he said desperately, willing himself to believe this was all some horrible dream, some nightmare gone wrong.

“You’ve been lying to us,” Taka said, his face contorting, fingers tightening on the knife’s hilt.

“I have not!” Alucard protested, and fought against the restraints only to fall back when the burning pain intensified. He mustered the energy he had left, trying to phase out of the bindings, and gasped, body going limp on the mattress. 

_What had they done to him?_

“You have,” Taka said sharply. “Because everybody lies to us. Everybody hides things from us.”

“You say you want to help us but all you want to do is keep us here,” Sumi said. Her gentle face was now twisted in rage. “You keep secrets from us, from Lucian, and you still expect us to trust you?!”

“We will find your secrets,” Taka said. “Use them to free our people from the vampires’ tyranny. You never cared about them, just about yourself. Using us for your satisfaction.”

“I gave you everything!” Alucard thrashed, gasping from the blinding pain binding every part of his body.

“No, you didn’t,” Sumi hissed, leaning in. “Nobody does. We have been lied to and cheated across half the world—do you expect us to believe you’re different?!”

Alucard stared up at her in horror, desperation—pleading. “I tried to be,” he breathed.

“You couldn’t even trust the woman who called you her friend,” Sumi said, turning the dagger in her hand to hold it in a reverse grip. “Why should we ever think you trusted _us?_ ”

Alucard’s eyes flared red and he snarled, muscles straining against the bindings. The cords bit down into his muscles, burning further, and the stench of scorched flesh hit his nose. His own body was on fire, pain wracking his every thought, clouding his mind.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_. The pain was everywhere, had become his existence. 

He closed his eyes.

Something warm and wet dripped on his chest, and he tentatively opened his eyes when he felt the bindings loosen, leaving stinging, raw wounds exposed to the air. 

Sumi and Taka, their throats slit, blood gushing from their necks, toppled backwards, and their blood pooled on his bed, already sticky with other bodily fluids. His sword hovered by the window, coated in their blood.

“I told you my father didn’t like magical weapons,” Alucard said numbly. “I did not say I didn’t use them.”

They twitched several times and went still.

“I never lied to you,” Alucard whispered, and the tears fell, fresh and hot.

* * *

He pulled himself together long enough to use an unsoiled corner of the bedsheet to wipe off the worst of the blood before looking around, frowning. His memory was fuzzy, but he vaguely remembered stumbling to his old childhood bedroom before collapsing on the floor as great, heaving sobs wracked his body.

Lucian would be able to heal his scars. Lucian—sweet Lucian, ever the one with the right words to say—

Alucard gasped and bolted off the floor, staggering to the doorway before getting his feet under him and racing to Lucian’s room. 

She was gone, her bed untouched, and the smell of her was faint like she hadn’t been there for hours.

Alucard sank to his knees, staring at the bed, hoping against hope this meant she was alright.

A soft whining behind him made him turn, and Kerberos sat in the doorway, ear flat against his head, tail still.

_No._

Alucard couldn’t even bring himself to clean up beyond the barest attempt at wiping off the stickiness that coated his body before throwing on clothes and staggering after the pug. Kerberos led him out the doors, across the open field, to the gaping hole that was the entrance to the library.

Heart in his throat, Alucard pulled the lever, sending the lift to the depths. The smell of blood hit his nose when he reached the bottom, and he almost couldn’t force himself to keep moving forward.

He found her among the shelves, lying in a pool of her own blood, long gone cold.

Legs together, arms outstretched, bloody burn scars that crisscrossed her body in a perfect replica of the marks he bore, and his stomach churned at the realisation she’d been in the cursed bindings long before they were used on him. Though she’d still been clothed, the bindings had burned straight through the fabric, and the stench of charred skin still lingered.

Numerous bloodstains and gashes in the fabric of her tunic told a horrific story of the number of times she’d been stabbed before her healing abilities were drained dry. There was a final deep stab wound in her right side, and her skin was an ashen grey of death, her body stiff from rigor mortis. A rag cut from the hem of her shirt had been stuffed in her mouth to silence her, and her eyes—those beautiful eyes were glassy and lifeless.

He fell to the floor again, gasping out a wordless scream.

Kerberos whined again, licking at Lucian’s face, paws scrabbling against her when she didn’t respond.

Mutely, Alucard gathered her body against his, brushing her hair out of her face even as her clothes fell away, burned to pieces by the cursed bindings. He’d slept with her killers, imagining they were Trevor and Sypha and _her_ , while her body grew colder by the hour.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, clutching her to him, ignoring the cold blood that seeped between his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Lucian, _please…_ ”

Her eyes stared into the distance as he cried.

* * *

He buried her. He took the greatest care digging the grave, though it was shallow; he barely had the energy to manage what he did, and when he laid her out, he’d dressed her in one of the gowns she’d so come to appreciate—the blue one, the one she first wore, the one she was wearing that night over the forest when he realised he loved her. 

It hid the marks of what they’d done to her. To him.

He made a cairn out of stones, there under her favourite tree, carved a name and dates, and then left without saying a word. 

Graveside platitudes would be no use here. He had work to do.


	31. Chapter 31

The wagon was silent. Trevor kept glancing over at Sypha, opening his mouth only to close it when he realised he had nothing to say.

She was quiet, arms folded around herself, shoulders hunched. 

He recognised the look. Sypha’s trust in humanity shattered back in Lindenfeld, and he didn’t know what he could do to bring her back.

“What did we miss?” Sypha’s voice was tiny when she spoke. “How could we have been so _stupid?_ ”

“I don’t think we missed anything,” Trevor said. He wanted to put an arm around her, but didn’t know how she’d react to his touch.

“So there was really nothing we could have done, then,” Sypha said, and she sounded so broken Trevor thought his heart would snap in half. “We would have just kept on being friendly with the Judge as he murdered more children.”

“Sypha, that’s not—”

“Don’t.” Sypha turned away from him, drawing his cloak around her shoulders.

Trevor let his hand fall. He looked out over the horses’ heads at the road and bit back a sigh.

“We’ll be back at the castle in a few days,” he said into the silence. “I know Lucian said everything was okay, but…”

“She’s going to have a lot of explaining to do,” Sypha agreed. She still didn’t look at Trevor.

Trevor shrugged. “Don’t think there’s much to explain,” he said. “Bilocation’s a pretty well-documented miracle; I’m not surprised our glowing-hands Jesus somehow managed to pull it off.”

“Trevor, she showed up for less than a minute and then vanished,” Sypha said, finally looking at him. “Why couldn’t she have warned us about the Judge? Or the monks? We could have saved so many people!”

“Maybe she didn’t know,” Trevor sighed. “Sypha, _we_ don’t know. We’ll get our answers when we get back to the castle. Or Lucian shows up again. There’s just no telling until then.”

Sypha’s face twisted. “How can you be so—so— _flippant_ about this?”

“ _What?_ ”

“You’re acting like you don’t care,” Sypha snapped. “That an entire town didn’t just get massacred because we were too blind to see—”

Trevor pulled the horses to a stop and wrapped his arms around Sypha, holding her against his chest as she sobbed. He stared at a tree that stood on the side of the road, his jaw set while he let her cry. 

“I do care,” he said softly when Sypha’s sobs finally subsided. “Sypha, believe me, I care so much—but I can’t let it drag me down like that.”

Sypha’s eyes were bright as she drew away, though she kept her hands on his arms, seeking warmth. “Then what _can_ you do?”

“Keep moving on,” Trevor replied grimly, and snapped the reins, urging the horses to move again. “And hope you learned enough from the experience to prevent it from happening to more people.”

* * *

Lucian felt a tickle on her nose. She sneezed and opened her eyes, and screamed when she realised a fat nightcrawler had been making its way across her face. She tried to sit up, yelped when she cracked her head on something hard, and began to panic when she realised she’d been laid out in what looked like a _tomb_. Pushing desperately against the stones above her, she managed to get a hand free into the cool air. 

_How long had she been down there?_

And more importantly, who would have—

She got her second hand free. 

_Sumi. Taka._

Her hands shot back down through the stones fast enough she scratched her wrists, and she gasped with pain when she felt the brands re-open and start bleeding. But as she frantically felt at her side—Sumi and Taka’s cold eyes flashed through her mind and she remembered the blinding pain as she’d been stabbed over and over, too much for her to heal before his knife slipped between her ribs in one final strike—it seemed like the wound had, if not healed, stopped bleeding, judging by the lack of blood on her gown.

_When had she ended up in the gown?_

Her body ached all over and she had a sharp, throbbing pain behind her eyes, but she forced her way out of the cairn and stood, shaking, trembling, covered with dirt, as she stared up at the castle and at the fresh corpses impaled on the front lawn, horrifyingly clear in the early morning sun. 

_Sumi_.

_And Taka_.

This was all some awful nightmare. _It had to be._ Because when she turned around to look at the grave, her breath caught when she saw what had been carved onto the tree in thin, narrow letters.

_Lucian Enache_

_1457 — 1476_

_✝_

_But she wasn’t dead_. 

She was right here, she was breathing, and yet she’d _crawled out of her own grave._

Sumi and Taka were their friends. This was just… her fear. Her fear of losing them like they’d lost Trevor and Sypha.

Lucian winced as she padded nervously across the grass, twigs and stones digging into her bare feet. 

The stench of newly-decaying corpses seemed uncomfortably real, and she held her breath as she passed, the sounds of flies buzzing on either side of her. She tried desperately to ignore them, wondering why in Hell her brain would conjure up this nightmare scenario.

“Alucard?” she called, nervously peeking around the ajar front door. If this was what it looked like outside, then surely the inside…

…would look the same as she remembered, rubble and all. She allowed herself to breathe the slightest sigh of relief when there were no bodies to be found. That had to mean worse lay in store, though.

“Alucard?” Lucian shut the door behind her, glad to be rid of the stench. Unsure if she was moving by compulsion or instinct, she found her feet carrying her to the familiar kitchen. A dull ringing grew louder in her ears and her heart pounded in her throat, and she lifted a hand to push open the door and saw…

Alucard, slumped over the kitchen table, golden hair splayed out around him like a halo. A half-drunk bottle of wine was clenched in his hand, and several more lay scattered on the floor, some shattered, all devoid of their contents.

This wasn’t right. This was _Trevor’s_ deal, not Alucard’s—and now, even more certain she was going to see something horrible, yet feeling like she had to find out, she moved forward and gingerly poked his arm.

“Aluc—”

Much faster than any human could move, Alucard’s head shot up off the table and he swung the bottle at her. She yelped and lunged out of the way an instant before the bottle shattered against the wall in a spray of wine.

Alucard surged forward, fingernails elongating into talons. He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her up against the wall, wine seeping into the back of her filthy gown while she struggled and kicked desperately for purchase, grabbing his wrist in both her hands for support.

Alucard’s eyes blazed red and he leaned in, speaking in a low hiss. She could smell the sour wine on his breath. “What twisted sort of _joke_ is this supposed to be?” His grip tightened and Lucian choked, spots dancing in her vision. “She’s not even been a week in the ground! Tell me who your master is so I can make them suffer for doing this to her!”

Lucian summoned the last of her air reserves to wheeze out a single word. “ _Please_.”

His eyes widened in realisation, and she felt the grip on her throat vanish instantly. Lucian fell to the floor, coughing and retching and gasping for air. Alucard was by her side in an instant, a look of horror on his face. 

“It’s you,” he said desperately, tipping her chin up so he could examine her neck. Already, bruises were beginning to form in the shape of his fingers, blood weeping from where his talons had pierced the skin, and he could have cursed himself. Instead, he let out a strangled sob, dropping his hand to grip hers—wanting desperately to cling to her, yet terrified of her touch. “I _buried_ you! You were _dead!_ ” 

Lucian felt like she was being choked again. It hadn’t been a dream, and the memories she’d been trying to fight down, trying to tell herself were conjured in this twisted dream world, all came rushing back. Her breath caught in her chest, and she pulled her hand free from Alucard’s to cover her mouth. 

“Lucian,” Alucard said desperately, and then—“Luce.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. She was shaking all over, trembling like a leaf caught in a storm. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. A chill settled over her, and she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking harder than ever. Her breath came in shallow, rapid gasps, and her vision began to narrow to a single chair in front of her.

Had to stop panicking. Had to pull it together.

“Hey. Hey.” Alucard’s voice was low, gentle. “You’re in the kitchen, you’re with me. It’s early morning, see how the light comes in through the window?”

She did. It was bright and beautiful and caught the motes of dust that hung in the air.

“You’re sitting on the floor. You...” Alucard’s voice cracked. “You’re wearing the blue gown. Can you feel the fabric?”

She could. It was the soft wool one, the first one she’d tailored to fit her. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, suddenly aware that the smooth, elegant folds were crusted with dirt. Her tunnel vision receded slightly, and she was able to suck down another deep breath.

Alucard waited until she was breathing mostly normally before he stood up and uncertainly offered her his hands; she took them after a moment’s pause, which didn’t escape his notice. Frightened of touch, and he knew it wasn’t just from his almost killing her by mistake.

Really, the only thing keeping _him_ from fleeing was the desperation of the last three days thinking that if he hadn’t been so blinded by trust, so absorbed in self-pity, he could have saved her, somehow. He withdrew his hands the moment she was standing, though, arms rigid at his sides. “You… should get cleaned up,” he said. “We can talk after.”

Lucian didn’t _want_ to talk after, she wanted to talk _now_. But from the way he couldn’t seem to look at her… 

_“After we’re through with you, we’ll be moving on to your pet vampire,” Sumi said as Taka jerked the knife free in a spurt of blood. “Take this castle for ourselves. Where’s your God to save you now, little priest?”_

She shuddered again. “They didn’t kill you, too?” she asked, already knowing what the only logical answer was.

Alucard still couldn’t meet her gaze. “Not for lack of trying.”

Lucian swallowed, remembering the feeling of burning metal against her skin, the ridges of scar tissue under her fingers when she’d grabbed his wrist. “Did they… you know…?” She still hadn’t worked up the nerve to look at her arms, but she tapped one of her wrists, biting her lip.

Though he wasn’t looking at her, he immediately understood what she meant. A million thoughts chased through his mind at once, what he should tell her, what he wanted to tell her… and then he realised that she’d _been_ there, she knew the physical pain, if not the emotional. A partial truth, then.

He couldn’t bear to confess what had really happened that night. Unless she already knew, or guessed, but until he was certain, he’d assume she didn’t and work from there.

He simply nodded. “Go wash up,” he said, gripping the back of the nearest chair. “You’ll feel better after a hot bath.”

If it wasn’t for how utterly _broken_ he looked, she would have insisted on staying. But, Lucian realised, this wasn’t just about her. It was about him as well.

Reluctantly, she stepped back and nodded. “I’ll see you…” And here, she hesitated.

Shortly? Presently? Too soon for them both, and a bath _would_ give her time to sort out her thoughts. Specifying a time would not do wonders for either of them, however.

“...This evening,” she decided. “Uh—in the library?”

A faint nod, which she took as her cue to leave.

When he could no longer hear her footsteps fading away into the depths of the castle, he finally allowed himself to collapse, head in his hands and breathing heavily. 

He still remembered the weight, the stiffness of her body when he’d pulled her off the floor and into his lap, clinging to her and weeping until his tears ran out. When he readied her for burial, he just focused on a wrist here, an elbow there, as he cleaned the wounds and gently dressed her in the gown. It was the least he could do to preserve her modesty in death as best he could.

And here she was now, three days cold in the grave and walking around, covered in dirt and smelling not of death, but of life—of warm, rich blood that pumped in her veins, heart as strong and healthy as he remembered.

“I must be going mad,” Alucard whispered, gripping his hair. “The wine, I simply drank too much.”

He’d been doing a lot of it since that night. He was beginning to see why Trevor found solace in the bottom of a tankard. The wine dulled his thoughts, made the pain almost bearable.

He took in a shuddering breath and the mingling scent of Lucian and grave dirt hit his nose. 

_In the library_ , she’d said, and Alucard pushed himself to his feet, brushing his hair back over his shoulders. It was limp and straggly, neglected like the rest of him.

Well, then. If this was a drunken hallucination, what disappointment did he have to gain that could hurt him further?

And so he went to the library to wait.


	32. Chapter 32

Lucian drew herself a bath and stepped into the warm water, hissing when she felt it sting her wounds. The water around her swirled black with grime, and she ducked her head, grabbing the bar of lye soap to attack her hair. It would need trimming again soon, she thought when she realised how shaggy it was getting, and then she paused when she noted what a thought that was to be having right now.

Bubbles erupted from underwater and she hurriedly lifted her head, laughing hysterically. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, strangely foreign to her ears. She sank against the sloped wall of the tub and dropped the soap off to the side, dragging her hands down her face.

She opened her eyes and swallowed when she caught sight of the thick, ropy scars that wound around her wrists. She’d been avoiding looking at herself as she’d undressed, but she knew that she would have to get it over with sooner or later. 

So she took a deep breath and forced her gaze along her arms where scars circled like snakes, down to her chest where they crossed over in an X, across her hips, her thighs, and she swallowed when she remembered the terrifying feeling of her legs being bound so tightly together she couldn’t move.

And then there was her side. Lucian half-lifted herself out of the water to look at the wound, twisting to get a better look and wincing when it strained the edges of the gash.

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she gingerly inserted a finger, gritting her teeth at how it stung. The wound seemed to be sealed about a quarter of an inch in, but that didn’t explain why she wasn’t bleeding from the obviously raw flesh around the edges.

Or how she was alive.

Lucian withdrew her finger and slid back down into the water until just her nose and eyes were above its surface.

“ _She’s not even been a week in the ground._ ”

Just how long _had_ she been down there? 

And why did it have to scare her so much to even consider contemplating it?

Trevor would confront it. Sypha would want to know more. And Alucard…

The image of him slumped over the table, lunging at her, claws at her throat because he believed her to be a night creature, flashed through her mind, and she sighed, bubbles churning the murky water. 

He must have been the one to bury her, unless Trevor and Sypha had returned and he hadn’t mentioned it. But she doubted they—Trevor especially—would approve of Alucard’s new lawn decorations.

Sumi and Taka’s corpses, throats slashed, yet nightgowns nearly impeccably white, impaled in the same way as his father’s victims. The thought gave her pause.

Did she really want to see him in the library after this? But she had to clear the air, and speak without judgement. She knew that accusations without hearing what he had to say would _not_ be the way to go about it, but beyond that… 

Well, this wasn’t exactly something they covered during seminary.

She sat in the tub and tuned out the world, trying not to _think_ , to just _be_ , to let her emotions slip away as the water slowly cooled. 

When she realised the bath had gone cold, she pulled the plug, turned the tap to rinse away the last of the suds and dirt with her hands, and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her. 

Lucian swallowed, aware of the soreness of her neck as she did so, and she lifted a hand to her sternum, trying to gather her strength to heal her wounds.

Nothing. Her powers, her magic, was gone. The effort left her exhausted; she didn’t think she could even manage to heal a thorn prick at this rate.

Lucian sat against the wall and stared mutely across the room, barely aware of the water dripping off her hair and onto her shoulders. Her mind seemed to go numb, replaying each stab from the daggers that plunged into her chest, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing while she screamed into the rag stuffed in her mouth, barely able to catch her breath between the knives that pierced her lungs and left her screaming, helplessly silent and unable to fight back.

She finally startled out of her reverie when rain began pattering against the windows, and she hurried to dry the remaining drops of water from her skin.

A soft whining from outside the door made her look up, and Lucian re-wrapped the towel, going to the door and opening it to find—

Kerberos.

The pug whimpered, and Lucian re-tightened the towel under her arms before scooping the pug into her embrace and cuddling him to her chest.

“You’re such a good boy,” she murmured. “Good baby. Little baby. You didn’t miss me too much, I hope?”

Kerberos whined again and licked her cheek, tail thumping against her arm. Lucian laughed softly and set him down, tightening the towel under her arms before padding back to her room.

She paused on the threshold, staring at the bed, the room, wondering if it had been dusted and practically _scrubbed_ in an odd sort of tribute to her. Lucian remembered what it looked like, but it still felt… wrong.

Like she’d never been there.

Like she’d never existed.

She was being silly, she told herself, and Lucian crossed to her wardrobe to pick out one of her altered gowns. She slipped the green fabric over her head and sighed, smoothing out the skirts.

“Right,” she murmured, glancing down at Kerberos, whose tongue lolled happily out of his mouth while he stared at her. “Guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”


	33. Chapter 33

Alucard heard her soft footsteps before she opened the door. He remained slumped in the armchair by the fire, though lifted his head when the door creaked open. Lucian slipped inside, dressed in the spring green gown that had once been his mother’s, and closed the door behind her, approaching him slowly.

Alucard watched her, still not quite able to believe she was actually there. But when she paused a fair distance from him, smelling clean and like _herself_ again, with that nervous half-smile that showed her slightly bucked teeth, he stood and closed the distance between them, stopping about a foot away.

“You’re real,” he said. The time she spent in the bath gave him the chance to shake off the worst of his hangover, and for the first time since her return, he allowed his shoulders to sag in relief. “Your neck?”

Lucian’s hand went up to gingerly touch the bruises, and Alucard winced. “I’ve had worse,” she said honestly, though it did little to make him feel better.

“Can you not...?”

“I tried,” she said, looking away. “In the bath.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes. “If I’d known it was you, I would never…”

“I know,” Lucian said. She hesitated, then stepped past him to sit in her armchair, indicating he should do the same. Alucard sank back into his seat, still watching her warily. “I would have reacted the same way. I’m… still not certain how this happened.”

Alucard laughed, a strained sound to both their ears. “Are there not stories of your God coming back from the dead after his followers nailed him to a stick?”

Lucian fixed him with a look. “Living relic or not,” she finally said, “that’s more than a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Alucard gave her a humourless smile. “Do you know how long you were in that grave?”

The way he said it hit her like a punch to the stomach, but she managed to keep her composure, if barely. “You said less than a week.”

“Three days,” Alucard said, and his fingers curled on the armrests.

Lucian was quiet.

“Three days I mourned you,” he continued, fingers digging in. “Thinking about what I could have done differently, how I would tell the others if they ever returned—”

“When,” Lucian said firmly. “So they haven’t yet?”

Alucard shook his head.

Lucian looked like she was thinking about how to pick her next words carefully, and when she spoke, he knew he’d guessed right. “I don’t think Trevor would be very happy to see the new additions out front.”

His jaw set. “They deserved worse.”

“I know this is… difficult for you to talk about,” Lucian said, closing her hands in her lap. Before, she might have reached out for his, but she remained folded in on herself. He was both grateful, and disappointed. Much as he wanted the touch of a friend just then, he didn’t think he could stand it.

“What’s there to talk about?” he said dismissively, looking up at the portrait above the fireplace so he wouldn’t have to let her see his face. “They killed you, then came and tried to kill me. I put them out there as a warning so nobody else would do the same.”

Lucian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; it was too short to stay, and fell back into place. “Normally I’d have thought you’d want to burn the bodies,” she said, and he hated how carefully neutral her tone was. 

“Normally,” he said, “yes.”

Lucian waited. When it became clear she wasn’t going to speak, he sighed. “I take it you don’t approve?”

“I might not be a man of the cloth anymore,” she said, a wry note to her voice, “but it’s still not my place to judge. I just want to know why. This isn’t like you.”

His head snapped back towards her, and she flinched in her seat. “It turns out, losing someone you care about tends to change people,” he said shortly, and hated how she flinched again at his tone. “Maybe you never really knew me to begin with.”

Lucian bit her lip and studied him with those infuriatingly appraising eyes of hers, head tilted slightly to the side. “Is that what’s true, or what you want me to think?”

She was certain her heart was hammering in her chest loudly enough to hear. Even though she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, she was still jumpy from their encounter in the kitchen.

And she’d thought Sumi and Taka wouldn’t have hurt them, either.

“We were both betrayed that day,” Alucard said at long last. His head dipped slightly, hair falling forward to hide his face. “I’m not going to let it happen again.”

Lucian bit back a sigh, hands knotting in the skirts of her gown. “If you need more time before you can tell me, I won’t pry,” she finally said, and stood up. “I can’t offer my help if you won’t talk, but I do want you to know I’m here to listen.”

_And I need you to listen to me, too_ , she wanted to say, but held her tongue. He was clearly wrestling with his own problems just then, and asking him to take on her burdens would just make things worse.

But being _murdered in the hold_ and coming back to life—like some twisted mockery of Christ—was a terrifying thing to live with, and she desperately wished he could offer some advice, some insight into the supernatural that she wouldn’t know, or even just a kind word. 

_I understand_ , he might say. _I’m sorry this happened to you._

But this was Alucard. He’d never been one to speak openly about emotions even before all this had happened. And now, he seemed more closed off to her than ever.

She turned to go, and was almost to the door when he spoke. “Wait.”

Lucian half-turned to see him looking at her, amber eyes a mess of conflicting emotions. 

“I’m… glad you’re back,” he said, finally. “More than I can say.”

Lucian nodded, and slipped out the door. She leaned against it for a moment, stifling a sob before regaining her composure and setting off to the kitchen. If she kept her hands busy, maybe her thoughts wouldn’t linger on what had happened.

Alucard watched her go, and slumped back in his chair. Damn her perceptiveness. It was only a matter of time before she figured it out, and then he _knew_ she’d want to get him to talk about his _feelings_ when he still hadn’t even begun to tackle the knotted mess of emotions surrounding his parents’ deaths, let alone her own. This just served to further ruin things.

He was a broken man. Or, as Sypha might put it, a broken, angry teenager in a man’s broken, angry body.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groaned, and forced himself out of the chair.

He would need to get back to some semblance of normalcy again, before Lucian started asking too many questions. He wouldn’t be able to keep it from her forever, but he could certainly delay.

* * *

After a long overdue bath, Alucard had to admit he _was_ feeling a little more like himself, and he went down to the kitchen to clean up, only to find the wine mopped, the glass shards discarded, and the empty bottles gone with them. A hot rush of shame ran through his body, and he turned away, snatching up his foraging basket as he went. What must she think, seeing him like this?

He headed out the front doors, past the rotting corpses. He stared resolutely ahead, refusing to acknowledge their presence. 

Lucian had been too kind to say it, but they were both thinking it. He was becoming his father.

As he made his way through the forest, along pathways that had grown familiar over the last two months, thoughts he’d been pushing away over the last three days started worming their way back into his brain. 

He wasn’t _yet_ used to the idea of loneliness, though he’d certainly been trying. Lucian’s sudden resurrection left him shaken, though, and not just because of the unnaturalness of it all. Death was a finality in his mind, and having her come back just meant he would have to deal with it all over again when she died for good.

For good. The thought made him pause as he crouched to pick some berries. What if there wasn’t a limit to how often she could come back?

He vehemently hoped they’d never have to find out.

On his way back to the castle, basket full of goods, he finally forced himself to look at the corpses framing the front doors. The sight of them made him feel sick to his stomach, and he felt his grip on the basket handle grow slick with sweat. 

It wasn’t the bodies. It was the memories of what those bodies had done when they were still alive.

_It can’t have been a pleasant sight for her to wake up to_ , he thought, pausing by the disturbed cairn. He turned and set the basket down, and began slowly shifting the rocks out of the way. He had to be sure. 

And, sure enough, the grave was empty.

Alucard sat back on his heels, letting out a slow breath, before picking up the basket and heading to the doors, still refusing to look at the corpses as he passed.

Once inside the kitchen, he caught a faint whiff of bread, cheese, and dried trout. Lucian must have been in the pantry recently before heading upstairs.

Alucard wanted to follow her—presumably, she’d gone to her room to eat—but it seemed intrusive to ask. Before, he would not have hesitated to ask her to join him in preparing the food, but unless she’d come back with her memories less than intact, she’d know he’d be making lunch around this time.

Best not to disturb her. He didn’t really want to have another conversation again. 

Not so soon. Not when he wasn’t ready.


	34. Chapter 34

Lucian gnawed on her meagre dinner, Kerberos perched in her lap. She’d fed him bits of trout from her meal as she ate, wondering if he’d missed her during her days in the grave.

But the pug seemed happy to see her, and Lucian couldn’t fault him for that.

She took another nibble—bread, dried trout, a bit of cheese that she honestly hated but knew was good for her—and sighed, letting her head fall backwards against the wall.

“Some welcome for coming back from the dead, huh?” she said to Kerberos, hating how bitter she sounded.

Resentment twisted into knots in her chest, and Lucian closed her eyes, willing it away. She was better than this. She _had_ to be better than this. 

But she wasn’t. She _needed_ to be the better person, and all she could do was cry about the unfairness of it all.

Bitterness was unbecoming of anyone, but she was only human. Besides, surely she was allowed to feel more than a little bitter? Trevor, at least after making sure she wasn’t some horrible creature straight from the pages of the bestiary, would have swept her into one of his bear hugs. Sypha would have embraced her without thought, just happy to have her back.

Alucard… 

Lucian sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. 

He probably wouldn’t have given her a full hug, but an arm around the shoulders, some gentle words—that seemed like the Alucard she knew, not the one she’d crawled out of a grave to return to. Even a betrayal and attempted murder from friends wasn’t enough to shake him to this degree.

“Maybe the silence really is driving us nuts,” she muttered, and Kerberos whined softly on her lap.

Lucian bit off another piece of her bread, gnawing as she thought to herself.

Had to keep moving.

Had to keep her mind off of everything.

Had to forget her own death.

* * *

She vanished into the library, chasing down references of saints and their miracles. Christina the Astonishing stood out to her in particular, and Lucian had to admit that would have been one hell of a way to come back from the dead, rising to the ceiling and telling everyone they smelled like sin.

Bit of a shame, really, that all she’d done was panic and crawl out of the ground. 

Lucian laughed quietly to herself, and the pug at her feet lifted his head, tail wagging.

“I know, right?” Lucian said, tugging him onto her lap. “What kind of lame resurrection was that, anyway? I couldn’t even scold anybody for being sinners!”

Kerberos panted, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Am I trying to pretend this isn’t scary, yes I am, yes I am, you’re such a good boy,” Lucian said, bopping him lightly on the nose. “Good little creepy undead doggie. I love you, I love you, yes I do.”

Kerberos licked her wrist, and Lucian jerked her hand back, chills running down her spine at the touch. She gingerly wrapped her hand around the brand, the scar, the reminder of what had happened to her.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lucian groaned, and set Kerberos on the floor before standing up. Maybe Alucard needed space, but she needed _him_ —and miracles or not, she was hardly a saint herself. 

She was a sinner. And… 

She was honestly pretty okay with that.

* * *

She found Alucard in the kitchen, in the middle of chopping a shallot for dinner. She joined him without either of them exchanging words, and Lucian helped him dice the vegetables he passed to her, the only sound the sizzling butter in the pan.

“Lu—”

“Aluc—”

They turned to each other, and their eyes met.

“Can—” Lucian stuttered and set the knife down, her hands twisting in the skirts of her gown. “Can I hug you?”

Alucard’s face twisted, and the moment stretched out between them, painful in its silence.

“Please do.”

At his words, Lucian stepped forward and tentatively wrapped her arms around him, shuddering when he let his chin rest on her shoulder.

This wasn’t a warm embrace that they were familiar with, but stiff, guarded, their bodies unyielding. Lucian tried to tune out his touch—Alucard couldn’t help but imagine _their_ hands—and they quickly separated, turning away from each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucian whispered.

Alucard gripped the edge of the counter, his expression unreadable. “As am I.”

Lucian bit her lip, tried to fight back the tic— _fft-fft-fft_ —and looked away, hands knotting in her skirts.

“Are you—” she began, and broke off, looking away. “I just—you—” She took a deep breath and smoothed out her skirts, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Alucard dipped his head, hair falling forward to obscure his face. Lucian wanted to brush it away, to pull him towards her, to tell him everything was okay—but she couldn’t lie to him like that.

She couldn’t give him false hope when he needed proper reassurance.

“I’m… fine,” Alucard said, and his tone told her everything. He wasn’t fine, he wasn’t handling _whatever_ had happened to him, but he didn’t want her to worry.

And that was the most concerning thing. Lucian wanted to help in whatever way she could, but she didn’t know how.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she said, even as she wanted to grab him by the shoulders, to scream at him that she was _not_ okay, that she was still trying to come to terms with her own death, her resurrection, that she would close her eyes and be back on the floor of the hold as the blades plunged into her chest over and over and over and over and—

Alucard’s hands fell to her wrists and Lucian stiffened, the memory of the silver chains wrapping around her coming back in full force.

But his hands were gentle, and he slid them up her arms to her shoulders, fingers squeezing her like he could rub away the pain.

Or like he needed to forget his own.

“I want to,” he said at last, and Lucian realised he’d been watching her. She wondered how much of her pain he’d seen written across her face, and shame burned in her cheeks, red-hot heat that probably told him all he needed to know.

“Alucard,” Lucian whispered, catching his hands. He stilled, and Lucian’s own hands went stiff on his own. “I—I know you saw what happened to me, I can’t hide it, but—what did they do to you?”

Alucard’s expression was unreadable. He went carefully stock-still, and prised Lucian’s hands off of him.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he said at long last, and Lucian felt her stomach drop out from under her. “Let’s just worry about making dinner, shall we?”

And so she did, hating herself for it, and wishing there was some way she could get him to talk to her. About himself. About her own troubles. About all the unspoken words between them that desperately needed to be said. Because they couldn’t keep this up forever.

If they tried, Lucian knew, it would destroy them much sooner than anything Sumi and Taka did to either of them.

Dinner was a silent affair. They kept glancing at each other across the table, but neither of them could manage to speak.

“Alucard,” Lucian finally said, and he glanced up at her, expression inscrutable.

“Yes?”

Lucian swallowed, her throat oddly tight.

“Are you _sure_ you're okay?” she finally asked, and Alucard’s eyes dropped to the table before his fingers dragged across the wooden surface, nails raking over it while he thought.

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” he said at last, and Lucian felt her stomach drop out from under her as he returned to his meal.

“I’m… glad you are, too,” she finally said.

He looked up at her, and her gaze was focused on her stew, her movements practiced, deliberate.

It was like she couldn’t bear his presence.

The silence stretched between the pair, and Lucian wished more than anything that they could speak freely, without the weight of their ordeals to separate them.

Alucard would have given anything for her to speak to him again.


	35. Chapter 35

“Hey.”

Alucard’s head shot up from the table, and he couldn’t help the quietly sardonic laughter when he saw the wine bottle clutched in Lucian’s hand.

“What is it?” he asked, and Lucian joined him, swirling the contents of the bottle as she sat down.

“Nothing,” she said, and grinned; he could hear how drunk she was, but it was good to see her smiling again.

“...Pass me the bottle?” Alucard sighed, and Lucian handed it over with a giggle, watching as Alucard tipped it back, drinking deeply.

“How’re you doing?” Lucian asked, and Alucard passed the bottle back to her, pursing his lips together.

“I could ask the same of you,” he said, and nearly recoiled when Lucian’s finger pressed against his lips.

“Nah-uh-uh,” Lucian said, and took another swig. “You keep avoiding talking about it and I am _too_ fuckin’ drunk to deal with that shit right now. Look, how about this: I tell you, and you tell me. Aight? Swapsies. Or… something?”

“You are incredibly drunk right now,” Alucard said, pushing her hand away.

Lucian gave him a twisted grin. “C’mon, I came back from the dead, lemme live a little.”

Alucard studied her, face flushed from the alcohol, and sighed. “Give me the bottle.”

Lucian passed it back to him and he drank. 

“You know, it’s kinda funny?” Lucian said, watching him. “They just kept stabbing me and I kept on healing and I think they were almost getting pissed off at how long it took to kill me.”

Alucard nearly choked on the wine.

Lucian put her feet up on the table. She was barefoot, and wiggled her toes, skirts falling up around her thighs to expose the thick scars that wrapped around her legs. Alucard quickly averted his eyes as she talked. “I keep having nightmares,” she said. She spoke frankly, without the guarded hesitancy she’d had before, and Alucard knew she’d never be this open without the liquid courage in her veins. “I keep replaying the stabs, the, the—I can still remember what it was like to end up bleeding out on the floor and is it weird I just keep wondering if Mama and Gavril had that panic when they died?”

Alucard took another drink while he thought. “It’s not,” he said at long last. “You grieve for them, there’s nothing strange about that.”

“You grieve for your parents, too,” Lucian said, her words lisping, and Alucard felt something cold wrap around his chest.

“...I…” 

And here, he hesitated, wondering how much she’d remember in the morning, how much he dared telling her, how much of himself he wanted to bare to this girl he’d already given so much to.

“I miss them dearly,” he finally said, and passed the bottle back to Lucian. “Mother and Father both. I know that might be strange, but—”

“He loved you.” 

Lucian’s words were like a punch to the stomach. Alucard felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath him, but he barely managed to keep his composure, watching Lucian drink.

“He did,” Alucard agreed quietly. “And… I still wonder if I could have saved him, somehow.”

Lucian lowered the bottle, her eyes oddly bright despite all the alcohol. “That wasn’t your job,” she said firmly. “He lost his wife but c’mon, you lost your _mother_. It wasn’t on you to comfort him, war on humanity or not. Aight?”

“...Yes,” Alucard said quietly, and Lucian tipped the bottle back for another drink. 

“You really gotta talk about that shit more,” Lucian said, and hiccuped. “Like holy fuck, Alucard, I love you, but it is so hard to talk to you sometimes.”

Her words bounced around in his head, ricocheted, and he swallowed. “...I beg your pardon?”

“You’re never gonna feel better if you don’t talk about it,” Lucian said, passing the bottle back to him. “I mean, I know I wasn’t as close with my family as you were, but I still miss them a ton—and I talk about them, you know? It helps, I promise it does, but you gotta be willing to share.”

Alucard’s fingers closed around the wine bottle and he stared at her, watching as she hitched her skirts back over her knees to cover herself.

“And whatever those bastards did to you, I mean—I’m not gonna pry, I ain’t drunk enough for that shit, and it's your business anyway, and all,” Lucian said. “But I don’t think keeping them around as a permanent reminder of it is gonna help you move on.”

Alucard slammed the bottle on the table and stood up abruptly. Lucian gasped and flinched back, and he immediately stepped back, though there was still a burning in his chest—rage, terror, he wasn't certain, but it reared its head like an ugly beast, and he carefully closed his hands into fists before folding his arms.

“You should sleep,” he said firmly, and Lucian swung her feet to the floor, standing up. “You’re drunk; you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know what I’m saying,” Lucian said, and jabbed him in the chest. “You need to stop avoiding shit and just—just— _talk_ , okay?”

Alucard caught her hand and gently—but firmly—pushed it down. “Lucian. Please. Sleep.”

“...Fine,” Lucian said, and turned, frowning when she realised she was facing the wall. “Where’s the door?”

Alucard carefully put an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the kitchen, to her room, and Kerberos joined them along the way. Alucard put her to bed in her clothes, and the pug jumped up onto the bed, curling under Lucian’s arm. She mumbled protests, but Alucard tugged the blankets over her, brushing her hair off her face.

“You’re such an idiot,” he said softly, hand trailing over her cheek. 

Alucard hesitated, studying her. She really never looked this relaxed while awake, and it struck him how young she looked—how he might have been the same, were he born a human.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

While Lucian was asleep, he took care of something he should have done in the first place: burning the bodies. 

The ashes, he dumped unceremoniously, deep in the woods where he doubted he’d have reason to travel to, and then he flew back to the castle. The sight of the front doors now free of their gruesome warning felt like some of the weight had been lifted off his chest. 

The memories were still _there_ , of course, but no longer having a constant reminder just outside his home would help. He’d been blinded by rage and grief when he’d impaled the bodies, driving the stakes through their corpses with a ferocity that was both exhilarating and frightening.

Mostly exhilarating in the moment.

Much more frightening now.

He would never forgive them, not so long as there was breath in his body, but he didn’t want to be the sort of man his father was. So blinded by rage and grief that he turned into a monster. 

His boots alighted on the steps of the castle and he went inside, in no particular rush to get to his bedroom. Instead, he went to his father’s study, where he sat in the armchair, looked around, and sighed. 

“What might you have been in another life if Mother hadn’t died?” he asked the empty room before looking up at the portrait of his mother. “Do you think he would have still become like that?”

The portrait smiled into the distance.

His father had painted that, shortly after she’d told him she was pregnant. The man who wished to destroy the world, proud and excited father-to-be. Teaching his son all the languages he knew, the sciences, how to craft his own equipment, how to use his powers as they grew with him. Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş, his pride and joy.

He’d been a good father, until she’d died. Then it was like a switch was flipped, and Adrian was struck down in anger, swatted aside like the past eighteen years together had meant nothing.

When Alucard awoke to face his father, a year later—time hadn’t passed at all for him, and the grief of essentially losing _both_ parents on the same day was still raw.

It was still raw now. Lucian said that it got better with time, so why did it still _hurt_ so often? Why could she talk about her deceased family with a sad smile on her face without wanting to claw her own heart out from the ache?

The realisation hit him like a shovel to the face. Because she talked about them. Because Sypha talked about her parents. He and Trevor were too similar in that regard, and he groaned at the thought of having something in common with the Belmont. Trevor shoved it down, burying it in the bottom of a tankard, while he erected walls, keeping everyone out. 

Hadn’t Lucian said it herself? She indulged in destructive habits, too, but not nearly to Trevor’s level—she’d given herself more opportunity to heal, while he retreated further inside.

“Why can’t it ever be _fucking_ easy,” he muttered, and left.

He lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling for hours until sleep took him and the nightmares returned.

* * *

Lucian almost wished she could crawl back into the grave if it meant she could stop replaying that morning on repeat. By the second time around, she’d realised she was stuck in a nightmare and fought to wake up, but the bindings that lashed her to the floor seemed to drag her mind down with them, and she screamed as Sumi and Taka stabbed her over and over until she woke in a cold sweat.

It was still dark out, but there was no way she was getting back to sleep after that. Especially knowing her dreams’ habits of picking up where they left off; she didn’t fancy reliving having to claw her way out of her own grave again.

She summoned a ball of radiance and let it hang by her shoulder while she got dressed in a simple tunic and soft breeches, Kerberos at her heels, and tugged on her boots before willing the light to follow her as she went downstairs. She nipped into the kitchen to retrieve her basket, then spent a good few minutes standing before the front doors, working up the nerve to go outside and face the corpses.

“Fuck it,” she swore, and tugged open the doors.

She blinked.

Rubbed her eyes.

The corpses were gone. The stench still faintly lingered and the dark bloodstains on the ground told her she hadn’t imagined their presence, but they were gone. A small smile curled her mouth, and she wondered what exactly it was she’d said that changed his mind.

It was a good sign, though, she thought as she and Kerberos set off into the forest, accompanied by the light. That Alucard decided to do this on his own without her having to badger him (and badger she would if necessary, because she was _not_ going to let those things stand out there, gentle approach be damned) meant he might be willing to open up to her soon.

She just had to be careful not to push too hard. He’d unknowingly spared them both the pain of _that_ confrontation; now it was up to her to make sure not to squander it.

A hot breakfast in the meantime, though, definitely wouldn’t go amiss.

* * *

It was a relief when he finally woke, though he was still exhausted. The smell of Lucian’s cooking wafted into the room and he sat up, wondering if she was cooking for just herself or if she would mind him joining her.

He decided to join her, and found her at the stove, quail eggs frying in a skillet along with what he suspected was the last of their bread. Kerberos was curled up at her feet, though the pug lifted his head when Alucard arrived.

Lucian turned around before he could announce himself and she startled, hand flying up to her mouth before she relaxed. “You scared me!”

“I seem to be rather good at that, lately,” Alucard said dryly.

“Try to fucking pin me against the wall again, see how scared I am then,” Lucian muttered before she realised how that sounded, and her cheeks pinked.

Alucard felt a faint warmth creep into his own face, but chuckled dryly and turned to sit down at the table to hide it. “I think I should wait until your bruises from your last time heal, first,” he said, though guilt gnawed at his stomach as he said it.

Lucian cleared her throat and he looked up; she tugged the collar of her tunic down just enough for him to see the bruises had already faded. “Some of my abilities are coming back; they must have healed last night,” she said, and he let out a small sigh of relief. “I found berries when I went out, by the way,” she added quickly, snatching up the bowl from the counter and setting it on the table. 

Alucard delicately plucked a raspberry from the bowl between finger and thumb, examining the plump drupletes before placing it on his tongue. 

Spring was drawing to an end, and with it, the abundance of fruits and vegetables they could gather. Though summer would bring its own bounty, the thought of what they would do come winter had been weighing on his mind until recent events rather drove it out. He wasn’t really sure if he’d planned to survive once he’d drained the wine cellar dry.

He became aware of Lucian’s eyes on him and he looked up to meet her gaze. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

She ducked her head and turned back to the frying pan, nudging the toast before flipping it over. “Just how much I’ll miss fresh fruits come winter.”

“Hm. Yes,” Alucard said, selecting another berry and contemplating it. “Perhaps we should make jam before the berries go off.”

“It would take a lot of berries,” Lucian said, and Alucard allowed himself to smile. It felt fake.

“It’s not like we don’t have the time.”

* * *

After breakfast, the pair collected their baskets and set off into the woods, leaving Kerberos to wander the castle. Alucard didn’t miss the way Lucian’s eyes flickered to the bloodstained ground, but she hadn’t mentioned it at breakfast (and he knew she must have seen the bodies’ absence, she’d gone out for fresh berries that morning), and she didn’t mention it again now.

Even though he knew it needed to be brought up, his fingers still clenched and unclenched on the handle of the basket as he thought of what to say.

“Lovely day,” Lucian said. She tilted her head back as they passed through a patch of sunlight, and it illuminated the faint freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. Barely noticeable in the shade for a human, but they stood out to him, an odd remnant of the youth she couldn’t seem to shake.

“Mmm,” Alucard agreed. He’d tied his hair back for once, and he had to admit the soft breeze caressing his ears felt nice.

“Let’s hope the wildlife didn’t make off with the last berries of the season,” Lucian continued. They passed a chittering squirrel on a branch, and she dug into her pocket for a scrap of bread before holding out a hand. The squirrel sniffed her fingers before leaping onto her arm to snatch up the offering, and Lucian laughed.

Alucard shook his head. “Since when have you been so good with animals?” he asked. Lucian tickled the squirrel under its chin before setting it back on the branch, where it scampered off.

“I think it’s because I grew up with priests,” Lucian said, shifting her basket so it rested in the crook of her elbow.

One of Alucard’s eyebrows slowly crept towards his hairline. “Because you’re oh-so-holy?”

Lucian moved like she was going to elbow him before catching herself and drawing back. She settled for rolling her eyes instead. “Because the animals were someone to talk to as I actually was,” she said. “Not as that quiet altar boy who seemed to never hit his growth spurt.”

“You’re quite tall now,” Alucard noted. Not _quite_ as tall as himself, of course, or Trevor, but a good head taller than Sypha for sure—maybe an inch or two shorter than himself at most.

Lucian lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Still with the face of a child,” she said, and Alucard turned to look at her, studying her features he was already so familiar with. 

“Maybe for someone presenting as a man,” he said. “You don’t look out of the ordinary for any woman I know of.”

They came to their favourite raspberry thicket, where Lucian had picked the fruit for their breakfast, and she knelt by a bush, long fingers weaving between thorns to select the ripest, sweetest berries. Her head bowed, and though Alucard knelt beside her to help, he couldn’t quite make out the expression on her face.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “It’s kind of you to say.”

Alucard snorted. “You grew up with _priests_ ,” he repeated. “I’m sure those bastards telling you you’re smaller than them did wonders for your confidence.”

Lucian didn’t respond for a moment, and Alucard glanced over to see her brows drawn together as she frowned at the bush, hands still.

“It really didn't,” she said, and the picking resumed. 

They fell into silence as they worked; Alucard wanted to broach the subject hanging between them desperately, but wasn’t sure where to begin. It wasn’t until they moved on to the next bush that he took the plunge.

“I burned the bodies.”

Lucian looked up at him and nodded. “I saw,” she said. “Smells a lot better around the doors now, I must say.”

Despite himself, Alucard felt the corners of his mouth tugging up. “I suppose so,” he said. “Mostly got rid of them for the reminder. I…” _Christ, this was hard._ “I realised that having the reminder out there was… making it harder to move on.”

Lucian nodded. “I’m glad you did,” she said. “Otherwise I’d have nagged until you got rid of them, for my sake as much as yours.”

_That_ gave Alucard pause. “I didn’t think how they’d affect you,” he finally said.

Lucian’s shoulders stiffened briefly before she forced herself to move past it. “Well, how would Trevor put it?” she said, affecting a deeper voice. “‘ _That’s because you’re a selfish prick_ ’?”

Alucard laughed, and Lucian laughed too, the noise startling a nearby flock of birds into the air.

“Don’t—don’t do that,” Alucard said, smiling. “Your Trevor is _terrible._ ”

“And so is your Sypha.”

“I don’t know how you went undetected for so long,” Alucard said, and gently lobbed a berry at her face. It bounced off her nose, but she caught it on her palm and popped it in her mouth.

“Soft voice and keeping to myself, mostly,” Lucian said once she'd swallowed. “It started getting harder after…” She bit her lip briefly, but pressed on. “After Dracula sent his forces to Gresit. When the new ‘priests’ started taking over at the bishop’s behest. They never trusted me.” Another spot of laughter, more bitter this time. “Probably for good reason.” 

Alucard inclined his head. “You’re no man of the cloth any more, but you have a better idea of a priest’s duties than any of them,” he finally said. He pursed his lips, considering his next words. “Your words last night helped, I think.”

Lucian gave him a soft smile. “Yeah?”

Alucard gave a jerky nod. “About grief,” he said. “And allowing yourself to heal. It’s because you talk about them, isn’t it?”

“I think so, yeah,” Lucian said. “Mostly with Sypha, before, but also...” He caught a flash of terror on her face before she composed herself. “You and Trevor are good company, but not so great with your feelings.”

Alucard opened his mouth to protest (despite coming to the same conclusion the night before) but she held up a hand, and he closed it. 

“Don’t even start,” she said. “I don’t even know why you two don’t get along better—never mind, it’s not the point. But yes, it’s because I could talk, and not hold this grief inside me. Which isn’t to say you have to start talking about your grief immediately,” she added quickly. “Sometimes we need to process it before we can start letting it out.”

“Hm.” Alucard focused for a minute on berry picking before he gathered his thoughts. “Was it Sypha you talked to first?”

“Pretty much,” Lucian said. “Her first. Then you. Or… tried to, anyway.” She smiled; it looked tired. “I thought maybe you’d understand, but you did kind of push me away, so I stopped trying.”

Alucard grimaced. “I _am_ rather good at that, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Lucian said. “You are.” She lobbed a berry at him, and he caught it in his mouth with more than just a touch of smugness.

“Show-off,” Lucian muttered.

Alucard swallowed and smirked at her, before it softened. “It’s a survival instinct,” he said, and elaborated when he caught her look. “He was a good father, but growing up in that court meant I couldn’t show any weakness, lest it reflect poorly on myself and him.”

Lucian nodded; she didn’t speak, and he realised she was waiting for him to continue.

“Once they know your vulnerabilities—it means they can control you. They know how to hurt you.” His hands closed around a clump of berries, nearly squashing them. 

“That sounds like an uneasy childhood.”

Alucard hated the way she spoke. It was _too_ gentle, _too_ nonjudgemental. It made him wish Trevor were back, if only to goad him into talking more with insults and crass jokes. “It was,” was all he said.

He was doing it again, shutting her out, closing off, he realised. He _wanted_ to tell her—if nothing else, then just to have a sympathetic ear to talk to—but that would mean she’d realise all his strength had been a façade, a front. She might have been able to talk to Sypha about her problems, but—

He paused, taking a moment to just focus on pulling berries from their stems while he gathered his thoughts. Lucian didn’t speak, though he wished she would. Anything to fill the silence so he wouldn’t _have_ to think.

“What was your mother like?” he said at long last, and Lucian sat back on her haunches, contemplating the bush.

“She was kind,” she said after a moment. “And clever, and smart, and I wish we lived in a time women could be educated. She was _miles_ beyond me in intellect, and my brother was much the same. I never knew our father, but she said he was a blacksmith and she taught him most of the trade—the shop was her father’s before he passed, and it was gifted to my father as her dowry so it could stay in the family. She was the real earner of the house; my father was competent, but she would give him her projects and he would sell them under his name to give us a livelihood.”

“Not many people would trust the forgework of a woman,” Alucard murmured, and Lucian shook her head. 

“My father died when Mama was pregnant with my brother,” Lucian said. She finished her section of bush and moved closer to him to keep picking. “She said she had a vision, then, that her child would be born of God. She named him Gavril Bogdan, and taught him how to work the forge.” She paused, contemplating her words, and then laughed softly. “I wonder now if she had the wrong child.”

“How old were you when you were given to the priesthood?” Alucard asked, and Lucian shrugged.

“Two or three, I think,” she said. “Maybe younger? I was nursed on her breast and turned over to their care when I was five, but she pledged me to their service when I was a babe, swearing I was my father’s son so we would be allowed to keep the house in my name.”

Alucard was silent, trying to comprehend that. He knew, logically, the _why_ —not just because Lucian had explained it to them around the fire so many weeks ago, but because he’d read the lawbooks, heard his own mother’s complaints about primogeniture—but emotionally, he couldn’t connect Lucian to _this._ She’d always been the priest dressed as a man who’d lost her family.

“She was clever, Mama,” Lucian said. “I was born Lucia Daria Enache—’the good light of comfort’. She turned me over to the church when I was young, and then I became Lucian Darius Enache. She would have given my brother, but by the time she’d claimed me as her son it was too late.”

“I’m… sorry,” Alucard said, but Lucian shook her head.

“Don’t be,” she said. “In the time between my being pledged to the church and my brother’s birth, we could easily have been cast out onto the streets. I kept my family under a roof, I learned skills that led me to helping the people, and... later you lot.” She smiled at him, though there was a sadness behind her eyes. “I understand her decisions and while I don’t deny I regret them… I’m glad she chose what she did.”

“What do you regret?” Alucard asked, and quickly added, “You don’t have to say if—”

“It’s fine,” Lucian interrupted. She sighed and let her hands fall to her sides before her fingers curled around her knees. “I just… regret I never got the chance to know her or my brother better. I was allowed to visit, once a month, but it never really was enough to form a proper relationship, you know?”

Alucard set his basket aside, studying her. “And yet, you grieve.”

Lucian bowed her head. “Not just for the family I knew,” she said, her voice thick. “But for the family I wish I could have had. I did my duty and I would not change a thing as it is… save for them living.”

“I think they’d be proud of you,” Alucard said, and Lucian sniffled before looking up at him. “Even if you act in defiance of the church’s dogma, you still follow the tenants of kindness and selflessness. And while they were alive, it sounds like you did everything in your power to keep them in comfort, at great expense to yourself.”

Lucian snorted, though it sounded strained. “I was kept in comfort by the taxpayers of Gresit,” she said. “I never had to worry about going hungry or cold.”

“So long as you endured the beatings and hid every aspect of yourself from the day you arrived at that cathedral,” Alucard pointed out, and Lucian bowed her head. “How long has it been since you heard anyone call you by your real name?”

He’d meant well, but he instantly realised his mistake when her head shot up. “I only know my birth name because of my mother’s stories,” Lucian said sharply. “I may have been born Lucia Daria, but Lucian Darius is the only name I’ve ever known. It’s _my_ name now—much like Alucard is to you, _Adrian Ţepeş!_ ”

Alucard held up his hands in a placating gesture, ignoring the sting of her words. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Lucian looked away and inhaled sharply through her nose, before letting out a slow breath. “I know,” she said softly. “Now, if I were Trevor, that would be a different story…”

Alucard laughed before he realised what he was doing, and Lucian chuckled as well, sprawling back on the grass.

“Seriously,” she said, turning to look at him. She felt heat rising to her cheeks as she took in his form, but forced it down. “What _is_ it you have against him?”

Alucard chose to follow her lead, laying back in the grass next to her and propping up his head on one hand as he did so. “Well, for one, he’s _crass_ ,” he said, holding up his fingers while counting off. “And he’s a drunkard, and has no sense to bathe regularly, _and_ hates me and my kind, _and_ on top of all that, thinks he’s better than everyone else, _and_ is probably compensating for a tiny penis—”

“If I didn’t know better, Alucard,” Lucian said, pulling up a clump of grass and lobbing it at his face, “I’d say you have a _crush_.”

The grass mostly bounced off Alucard’s nose, and he brushed off the remaining blades impatiently. “I do _not._ ”

“He doesn’t _hate_ you, you know,” she said, and Alucard rolled his eyes. “He respects you as a fellow warrior.”

He damn well knew that, but he certainly wasn’t about to let her know. Yes, he was _fond_ of the Belmont, but the respect between them was tangential at best, brought together by circumstance. He’d trust nobody else but Trevor (and Sypha, and _maybe_ Lucian) to have his back in a fight, but once the dust had settled, he was just as willing to trade barbs with the other man as to simply flip him off to save himself the effort of speaking.

He most certainly didn't find him attractive. Fantasies be damned.

Alucard sighed. “He is a more than competent fighter,” he finally said, and Lucian rolled onto her back, clapping sarcastically. “Oh, spare me the theatrics.”

“When they return, I am _so_ telling him you said that,” Lucian said, and then it was Alucard’s turn to lob a clump of grass at her face.

“You do, and I’ll pin you against the wall again like you seemed to crave back in the kitchen.”

Lucian’s heart caught in her throat, but she met his eyes, almost like a challenge—

—or an invitation. Alucard leveled his gaze at her steadily, a silent standoff that was only broken when Lucian sneezed.

“I win,” Alucard said smugly, and sat up.

“You’ve got leaves in your hair,” Lucian said. She reached out a hand, but half-withdrew it almost immediately. “May I?”

“I’m not some frightened animal needing to be coddled,” Alucard said through gritted teeth. He appreciated her asking, but at the same time, it was tiresome, and an unwelcome reminder of what had happened.

Lucian still hesitated, but began plucking leaves and small twigs from his ponytail. At her initial touch, he stiffened, and then relaxed at the familiar sensation.

He’d missed this.

“I could braid it again, if you’d like,” Lucian offered, and Alucard gave a small nod.

He heard her shift into a better position behind him, and then tugged loose the leather tie holding his hair back. It tumbled down his back, and Lucian’s fingers found their way into the locks, carefully working out the few tangles that had formed since that morning.

He closed his eyes, just focusing on the pleasant sensations. 

“I still don’t know how you manage to keep this out of your way in combat,” Lucian remarked. Her fingers hovered over his temple, pulling the hair away and separating it into sections.

Alucard chuckled softly. “Lots of practice.”

Lucian’s fingers were deft, working a plait close to his scalp before tying it off to work on the other side. 

“Mother used to brush my hair when I was little,” Alucard said, and he felt Lucian’s fingers still briefly before resuming their work. “Sometimes in the spring, when she would take me out to gather herbs, we’d stop by this field full of wildflowers, and she’d braid them into my hair. Father laughed the first time he saw it.”

“Did he not approve?” Lucian asked tentatively. 

“No, he was just surprised,” Alucard said. There was a tightness to his chest as he kept speaking, which didn’t make sense. Wasn’t talking supposed to make you feel better, not worse? But he pressed on. “He did seem annoyed that he had to pull them all out when it was time for my bath that evening, though.”

“Your parents sound like they were pretty hands-on,” Lucian said, and he resisted the urge to turn and look at her when he heard a faint note of jealousy in her voice.

“They wanted to be as involved in my childhood as they could,” Alucard said. He tipped his head back, relishing the feeling of Lucian’s fingers in his hair, and chuckled when he felt her push his head back into place.

“I can’t braid if you don’t work with me,” she said, and he obligingly kept it upright for her.

Alucard considered his next words. In a way, he did want to tell her what Sumi and Taka had done—she was the only person who could possibly come close to understanding. But they hadn’t invited themselves into her bed, laid with her, and then... 

He was violated. There was no kinder way to put it. He could already clearly picture the pity and disgust on her face when she eventually found out, and the thought made his stomach churn.

“Are you okay?” Lucian asked, and he realised he’d gone quiet.

“Are _you?_ ” he asked snidely, and something inside her snapped.

She had enough of putting up a happy front for him.

“No,” she said sharply, tying off the braid before it was finished and moving away, beginning to tremble. “Alucard, I _died_ and _came back to life_ and the first time you asked me how I was feeling was as a sarcastic comeback. I’ve been _trying_ —God help me, I've been trying—to do the good priest thing and let you open up on your own terms but all you do is shut me down when _I_ need to talk and don’t even care that, whatever it is they did to you, they _stabbed me, twenty-six times in the FUCKING chest_ — _!_ ” She inhaled sharply and doubled over, face pressed against her knees, not even able to cry between the great, heaving gasps that left her shuddering on the ground.

Alucard sat there, stunned as he watched her wail. He startled out of his reverie and despite his instincts screaming at him not to, reached out to hesitantly touch her arm. 

She leapt at his touch like it was fire, slapping his hand away with a ferocity he’d never seen from her before, and he jerked his arm back.

“What,” came a familiar voice, and Alucard whirled to see Trevor and Sypha standing just beyond the thicket, staring. “...the fuck,” Trevor finished.


	36. Chapter 36

Lucian’s head snapped up and she and Alucard stared, neither of them quite able to believe their friends were back.

“You’re…” Lucian said, and trailed off, wiping away the tears that dripped down her face.

“It’s you,” Alucard said faintly, and gasped when Sypha jumped over the bushes to pull him into an embrace.

“We missed you,” she said, and Alucard stiffened under her hands, wanting to pull her into a hug, and too scared to do so. “We’ve—”

“Lucian, seriously, what the fuck?” Trevor said, and crouched next to where she was sprawled on the ground, eyes bright, cheeks glistening from her tears. “You turned up for all of one minute, said hello, and then vanished.”

Lucian choked out a desperate sob and lunged forward, and Trevor fell backwards, patting her shoulder and wondering how he’d ended up in this position. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she still smelled like he remembered, though there was also the aroma of fried bread, eggs, and butter that still clung to her. 

“I didn’t think that was real,” Lucian whispered, her fingers digging into his back, and Trevor sighed, pulling her against his chest.

“You dumbass,” he said fondly, and rubbed her hair. Lucian leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, and she shivered under his hands.

“We should… probably go inside,” Sypha said, staring between them, and she felt her heart twist as she wondered what could have happened in the last few months to change them this much.

“Where have you been?” Alucard said, almost desperately. “It’s been nearly two months and you’ve—”

“We’ve been travelling,” Sypha said quietly, grasping his hands. Alucard drew back, unable to meet her gaze. “...Alucard?”

“I—” Lucian inhaled sharply, doubling over on herself. “We’ve—there was—”

Sypha looked between Lucian and Alucard, and bit her lip before glancing at Trevor.

His expression spoke volumes, though mainly it consisted of ‘What the fuck happened here?’

She didn’t know. And she didn’t know if she wanted to know.

“We should tend to the wagon,” Sypha said at long last. “And the horses.”

“Right,” Lucian said, and staggered to her feet, her hair falling in her face. She pushed it away, eyes studying them, and Sypha wanted desperately to pull her into her arms and whisper that everything would be okay.

But Lucian turned away, and Sypha thought her heart might shatter in her chest.

“You said you needed to look after the wagon, yeah?” Lucian said, and Sypha hurried after her.

* * *

With the horses secured outside, water to soothe their throats and the yokes unhitched so their withers could breathe, the four retreated into the castle, and Lucian planted herself at one of the kitchen chairs while Alucard retrieved cold stew for them, dishing it out into porcelain bowls.

“This is too good,” Sypha said, even as Trevor wolfed down the food. She almost wanted to elbow him for his apparent callousness, but when he put the bowl down, jaw set, she realised he was just as shaken by their discoveries as she was and didn’t know how to react.

“Alucard’s an amazing cook,” Lucian said quietly, and Sypha glanced at her. Lucian’s hands wrapped around her bowl, her food uneaten, and her fingers curled against the smooth surface. Alucard let a hand fall on her shoulder, and Lucian glanced up at him—flinching at his touch, but not drawing away.

“We’ve had so many questions to ask, but—what happened?” Sypha said quietly.

Lucian and Alucard glanced at each other again, their silence speaking volumes—and yet, still managing to say nothing at all. 

Sypha grit her teeth at the silence, biting back a string of words she knew she would regret.

“I know you probably need time,” Sypha finally said, “but please—we need to know how you’re doing, at the very least. Especially after you showed up in Lindenfeld—”

Lucian jerked back, and Alucard’s head turned sharply to look at her. Sypha wanted to grab the pair of them and scream at them to tell her what they’d been missing; they were nervous, jumpy, neither of them unable to so much as look at each other without flinching.

She wanted to yell at them to talk, but that was hardly the best way to make them open up. So she spooned more cold stew into her mouth and swallowed down the resentment, wondering just what, exactly, had made the like this.

“Honestly, I don’t know what happened,” Lucian said at long last. “I thought I was dreaming, that—that maybe it was just something I’d imagined. But you’re—” And here, she stuttered, ducking her head. “You’re real?”

“No shit, we are,” Trevor said, letting his spoon drop. “Seriously—you just show up out of nowhere and think that won’t fuck us up, just a little bit?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Lucian said desperately, and her arms jolted forward like she wanted to grasp Trevor’s hands before she caught herself. “I didn’t even know that was _real_ , I just— _please_ , just believe me, I didn’t—”

“We do,” Sypha said, and caught Lucian’s hand. “Lucian, we believe you. Okay?”

“Yeah, uh, what Sypha said,” Trevor said, eyeing Lucian. “...Look,” he added, ignoring Sypha’s foot connecting with his shin under the table, “you two look like fucking messes, there’s blood outside the front doors, and something obviously happened to fuck you up this much, so what was it?”

“Nothing,” Alucard said, even as Lucian spoke up, “I died.”

They looked at each other, and Trevor and Sypha exchanged glances before staring back at them.

“The _fuck?_ ” Trevor finally said.

* * *

Alucard and Lucian told them. The story of the last two months wasn’t a long one, but they couldn’t bring themselves to speak of it, and their words were halting. They hesitated and broke off a lot, glancing at each other, neither of them able to talk openly about their newfound friends—Sumi and Taka.

Alucard couldn’t speak when he came to _that day_ , and so it was left to Lucian to tell how she’d been pinned to the floor and restrained by the cursed bindings, and Trevor’s breath hitched in his throat at her words when she spoke of how she’d been stabbed until her healing abilities were drained dry.

“Fucking hell,” he finally said when Lucian fell silent, fingers twisting together while she stared down at her hands.

“So you… came back from the dead?” Sypha said, and Lucian nodded once, pressing her lips together.

“And you—?” Trevor said, but Alucard stood up from the table, pushing his chair away. 

“It’s none of your concern,” Alucard said firmly. “Lucian is alive, and that is what matters. You should worry about that, instead.”

“Listen here, you absolute taintsore,” Trevor said, standing up as well. He pressed his hands against the table, leaning in even as Alucard’s gaze bore down on him. “I’m glad she’s alive, don’t get me wrong, but _something_ happened to you, too. Don’t fucking deny it,” he added, even as Alucard opened his mouth. “I can see the scars, I’m not _stupid._ Lucian’s not the only one shit happened to while we were gone.”

Alucard’s face was a mask of cold fury, and he whirled away from Trevor, stalking from the kitchen.

“Get back here, you fu—”

Sypha caught his arm and Trevor glowered down at her.

“Let him be,” Sypha said firmly, and Trevor sat, his body taught like a drawn bowstring.

The kitchen door slammed behind Alucard, and Sypha let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

“Lucian,” she finally said, “what happened?”

“I…” Lucian’s voice broke. “Don’t ask. I don’t know. I really don’t, please….”

Trevor swore; Sypha got up and came around the table to sit next to Lucian, hesitantly holding out her arms before Lucian leaned into her embrace, shuddering even as Sypha drew her in.

Lucian’s body was stiff before going limp, and she let her head fall against Sypha’s shoulder. “I missed you guys.”

“We missed you, too,” Sypha said, and when Trevor didn’t respond, she jabbed his arm.

He groaned. “Okay, yeah, we missed you,” he said. 

Lucian’s mouth twitched in the faintest approximation of a smile, and Trevor felt a spark of hope that everything would be okay—and then he glanced at Alucard’s vacated seat, and he pursed his lips.

“You guys stay,” he said, getting up and pushing back his chair. “I’ll try talking to him.”


	37. Chapter 37

“I know you can hear me, you sulky bastard,” Trevor called as he walked through the castle. He banged open the doors one by one, peeking into them before moving on to the next. “ALUCARD! Stop hiding like a tantrumy child and talk to me, dammit!”

Trevor threw open another door and paused on the threshold.

Rotting blood covered the bed, sprayed up on the curtains, coated the floor in a thin, congealed layer of ooze. 

“Fucking—Christ,” Trevor said, moving in for a closer look. The bedsheets were drenched in blood, but something else was there too—crusted and yellow—and Trevor paused, then his hands curled into fists. 

He turned and stalked from the room, stomach churning. He couldn’t jump to conclusions, but between Alucard’s behaviour and the story the bed told—

No. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Alucard?” Trevor called again. Fuck’s sake, Dracula was one vampire, why did he need such a fucking enormous castle?

Searching for him would take too long.

“Alright, if I was an emotionally unstable vampire, where would I go?” Trevor muttered to himself.

He paused in the middle of the hallway, thinking.

The bedroom where they’d killed Dracula. Alucard never spoke of it, but from the toys and drawings, it had to be his childhood nursery. 

It was a start, anyway.

Trevor’s feet carried him back through the route the battle had gone, and he paused briefly to let his hand linger on the cracked wall where Dracula had thrown him.

One more thing to take advantage of while they were back—he needed to know how he’d survived. Not just here, but back in Lindenfeld, when he’d coughed out a spray of blood, certain his lungs should have collapsed. 

Why did everything have to choose now to all go to shit?

Trevor found the room and pushed the door open. A bloody and crusted bedsheet was on the floor, but otherwise it looked the same as he remembered, right down to Dracula’s wedding ring where it had fallen. 

Alucard huddled in the corner, staring at the sheet, though he lifted his gaze to meet Trevor’s. “I’m not in the mood, Belmont.”

“I saw your room,” Trevor said bluntly, and sat on the floor, keeping a respectable distance from Alucard. The dhampir’s eyes widened briefly, and then narrowed, but Trevor plunged on. “Look, whatever it was they did to you—”

“They didn’t do anything to me.”

“Bullshit,” Trevor said. “I saw the bed, you’ve got those scars—”

“I invited them in,” Alucard said, and his voice broke.

Whatever words Trevor had been about to say next died on his lips. “You…?”

Alucard closed his eyes, and Trevor felt his stomach drop out when he realised the dhampir was _crying._

“So they didn’t force themselves on you,” he said slowly, and Alucard shook his head. “But it still fucked you up, whatever happened.”

“They tried to kill me like they did Lucian,” Alucard whispered, one hand closing loosely around the brand that circled his wrist. “But not before they used me. I could have stopped them.”

Trevor sighed and propped his elbows on his knees. “Look,” he finally said. “I’m not good at this talking about feelings shit, but you gotta stop blaming yourself. You trusted them, and you apparently liked them enough to—”

“I kept imagining they were you.”

Trevor and Alucard stared at each other for a long moment.

“A-and Sypha. And Lucian.” Alucard’s fingers curled on his thighs, and he shuddered before wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

The silence stretched out between them. 

“Uh.” Trevor shifted on the floor. “Well. I was… not expecting that.”

Alucard’s mouth twisted. “Go on, insult me, Belmont. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Use all that tiny brain space for crass jokes and pathetic insults—”

“Listen to yourself, you bellend,” Trevor said. “I’m not going to insult you over this. I’m not _that_ much of an asshole. Look.” He gestured to the spot next to Alucard. “Can I sit with you?”

Alucard shifted slightly, and Trevor crossed the space between them to sit down, crossing his arms.

“Nobody’s going to think you’re weak because of what happened,” Trevor finally said. “Shit happens. This wasn’t your fault.”

“I slept with her killers and imagined they were her while her body went cold,” Alucard snarled, slamming a fist backwards against the wall. His eyes flared red, and Trevor went for the Morning Star out of instinct before forcing his hands to still. “I should have noticed. I should have been more suspicious.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Trevor said. “You can either spend forever in this castle moping and blaming yourself, or you can pull your head out of your arse, come back to the kitchen, and start going back to being the self-centered prick you were when we met.”

Alucard put his head in his hands, staring at the floor between his knees. “...Don’t tell Sypha and Lucian?”

“What, about the sex, or the fantasies?”

“Both.” Alucard looked up at Trevor and sighed. “You know them, they would just… _pity_ me.”

“So that’s why you haven’t chased me off, yet?” Trevor said, and Alucard flipped him off.

"Don't flatter yourself."

* * *

Lucian poured steaming tea into a mug and passed it to Sypha. “Either Trevor’s going to somehow yell Alucard out of this mood he’s been in, or they’re going to kill each other while we have tea.”

“One or the other,” Sypha agreed. She wrapped her hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth, and she studied Lucian for a moment. “And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“You were kind of screaming yourself hoarse at Alucard when we showed up,” Sypha said, and Lucian grimaced, lowering her mug. 

“I know,” she said quietly. “I let my temper get away from me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you yell before,” Sypha said. “Lucian—you _died_.”

Lucian’s shoulders stiffened. “Yeah, I think we covered that pretty thoroughly.”

Sypha reached out hesitantly, but when Lucian didn’t draw away, she covered Lucian’s hand with her own. “How are you doing?”

“...Not super great,” Lucian said, her eyes flickering briefly toward the door. “And whatever happened with Alucard… I mean—Sypha, I can’t _not_ try to help him, but doesn’t he know I need him, too?”

“Trevor and I are here now,” Sypha said, her thumb brushing over Lucian’s knuckles. “We can’t fix what happened, but we’re not leaving again. You’re not alone.”

Tears welled up and Lucian ducked her head to wipe her eyes, sniffling. 

“Come here,” Sypha said, setting down her mug. Lucian leaned into the hug, shivering at the initial touch before she caught the familiar smell of Sypha’s hair, and she felt _safe._

“I, um,” she said, glancing up at Sypha. “I think I promised you a kiss when you returned?”

“You don’t have to,” Sypha said quickly. “When you’re feeling better—”

“I _want_ to,” Lucian insisted, and Sypha cupped her cheek as she leaned in.

It wasn’t the gentle kisses like on the parlour floor that night; this was desperate, clinging, Lucian trying to find comfort in it that she couldn’t get from the hug. Even as every instinct in her body screamed at the touch—to get away—to flee—she pressed herself closer to Sypha.

She realised she was crying and Sypha hurriedly drew back, wiping away her tears. 

“Lucian, it can wait,” Sypha said. “I _promise._ ”

Lucian nodded, hugging herself and looking away. 

“What happened?” Sypha asked. “While you were…?”

Lucian picked up her mug, staring down at the tea. She hated tea at the best of times, but now the smell made her stomach churn, and she quickly pushed it away, folding her hands on her lap instead. “I… don’t know, actually,” she finally said. “It was just—dark. One moment I was in the hold, and the next I was… waking up. In my grave.”

“Like limbo,” Sypha said thoughtfully. Lucian nodded and swallowed.

“When I was in Lindenfeld—I mean, I don’t know what I saw really, but it… I think it was Hell.”

Sypha’s hands stilled. “It was,” she said, at long last. “Some monks had gone insane; they tried to use something called the Infinite Corridor to open a portal to Hell and bring Dracula back.”

Lucian’s heart thumped in her chest. “So that actually _was_ him,” she whispered. 

“You saw him?” Sypha asked, and Lucian nodded slowly.

“His wife was with him,” she said. “I—I haven’t told Alucard yet. I meant to, and then everything happened so fast…”

“And he’s hardly in a great spot right now, either,” Sypha said. She drummed her fingers on the table, chewing her lip. “But he does deserve to know.”

“Yeah.” Lucian sighed. “We’ll tell him when Trevor drags him back here?”

“Assuming the both of them are still alive,” Sypha said, and despite herself, Lucian chuckled.


	38. Chapter 38

When Trevor and Alucard returned to the kitchen, Lucian could tell _something_ had changed between them. It was the way Trevor carried himself, she realised; normally around Alucard, he was laid back, relaxed, but something in the stiff set of his shoulders and the way he angled his body away from the other man left her wondering what the hell they’d been talking about.

“Hey,” she said, giving Alucard a small smile as he sat back down. “Feeling any better?”

He glanced at Trevor, and for a moment their eyes met before they looked away again.

“Better might not be the right word for it, but I’ll say yes,” Alucard finally said.

“There’s… something we need to tell you,” Lucian said.

Alucard’s eyebrow went up. “Always the sort of words everyone wants to hear.”

“While we were in Lindenfeld, things went… horribly wrong,” Sypha said. 

“No shit,” Trevor muttered, letting his arm settle around Sypha’s shoulders. She leaned into his touch, and Trevor sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. “There was a cult trying to bring your father back from the dead.”

Alucard went very, very still. “But they were unsuccessful,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He wasn’t sure how he felt—relieved? Dismayed? Somewhere in between? 

“Not for lack of trying,” Trevor said bitterly. “They killed almost everyone in the town, used the Infinite Corridor to open a portal to Hell.”

“The Infinite Corridor exists?” Alucard said, latching gratefully onto the distraction.

“What’s the Infinite Corridor, anyway?” Lucian asked. 

“A magic phenomenon said to be capable of spanning time and space,” Alucard said. “I thought it was just a legend.”

“It’s real, all right,” Trevor said. “We destroyed the portal, but…” And here he hesitated, glancing at Sypha.

It was Lucian who spoke up, though. “Alucard, I saw your mother.”

He inhaled sharply. “In Hell?”

“She was with your father,” Lucian said gently. “They looked… at peace. If that helps at all.”

Alucard could hear her voice, but she sounded incredibly far away. There was a ringing in his ears, and he realised the table cracked under his fingers where he gripped it.

“...Alucard?” Sypha said quietly.

He turned his head to Lucian, though he couldn’t look at her. “You’re a priest,” he said, his voice soft. “My mother was a good woman. So why is she in Hell?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Lucian said quietly. “I saw my family in there, too. And…” She glanced at Trevor, biting her lip and wondering if she should tell him she thought she saw his sisters.

Maybe not. She didn’t even know what they looked like in life.

“I mean, for Hell it didn’t seem as awful as I imagined?” Lucian offered faintly. “They weren’t in pain, they were together—hugging, even.”

Alucard nodded once, an almost imperceptible movement. “That is… good to know.”

“God’s a bastard,” Lucian said bitterly. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all—not just that Lisa and her family were in Hell, but also that meant the evil priests she’d known growing up weren’t suffering.

The vindictiveness of the thought gave her pause, and she shoved it into the back of her mind, trying to pretend it didn’t occur to her.

A soft scrabbling from the door made them look up, and Lucian’s eyes widened as she hurried to stand in front of it. “So, uh, Trevor? Sypha? I kind of have a new pet. Don’t freak out?”

“That is _not_ a great sentence to lead with,” Trevor said, hand going to the Morning Star.

“Trevor, I’m serious, don’t hurt him,” Lucian said, folding her arms. She waited until Trevor dropped his hand (though she knew he could have the whip out in a second) before turning to open the door, scooping the pug into her arms. “This is… Kerberos.”

“...That’s a zombie dog,” Trevor said, staring at the pug as it panted in Lucian’s arms, looking incredibly content.

“He’s kind of cute, though?” Sypha said uncertainly.

“How the fuck did you get a zombie dog?”

“I ask myself the same thing, sometimes,” Alucard said, rubbing his forehead. He needed a drink.

“I found him in... a room upstairs,” Lucian said, shifting Kerberos in her arms so she could rub his ear. “Alucard thinks he might have belonged to one of Dracula’s forgemasters.”

“Lucian, you know those things are loyal to their creators,” Trevor said. He hadn’t gone for the Morning Star… yet. “Soon as he comes back looking for his pet, it won’t be so cuddly with you anymore.”

Lucian bit her lip and looked down at the pug. Kerberos seemed content to snuggle up against her chest, and closed his eye. “But… he’s so cute.”

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m surprised you let her keep that thing,” he said to Alucard.

“She’s an adult, and it’s hardly a slavering beast,” Alucard pointed out. “If the forgemaster comes calling, the most it could do is bite our ankles.”

Trevor groaned and looked back at Lucian, who gave him the biggest doe eyes he’d seen from anybody who wasn’t Sypha.

“When that thing turns on you, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’.”

Lucian beamed.

Sypha stretched out a tentative hand, and Kerberos sniffed it before licking her fingers. She smiled. “Okay, I’ll admit it: he’s cute.”

Lucian glanced at Alucard, who was watching them with a faint smile on his face. But when he caught her eye, he frowned, turning away. Lucian bit her lip and set Kerberos on the floor.

“Alucard?” she said softly. “Er—could we go for a walk?”

“Trevor and I need to unload the wagon,” Sypha said quickly, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him to the door.

Alucard waited until they were gone before he rose in a single fluid movement, and Lucian trailed after him. Down the front steps, making a wide berth around her grave and the hold, heading towards the stream in silence.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier,” Lucian finally said, tapping her fingers together. “I was mad, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“I was thoughtless,” Alucard said, still not looking at her. “So, let me correct that.” He stopped on the banks of the stream and they sat, Lucian hugging her knees loosely to her chest. “How are you doing?”

Lucian paused while she considered the question. “Weirdly… okay?” she said. “I mean, shaken. Not looking forward to sleeping tonight. I guess right now I’m mostly just worried about you. With the news…”

Alucard sighed, leaning back in the grass. “I’ll admit, it hasn’t quite sunk in yet,” he said. “It seems like things are all choosing to pile up at once.”

“Yeah,” Lucian said quietly. “It’s been kind of a shit week.”

Alucard glanced at her, and despite himself, his mouth quirked in a half-smile. “That’s an understatement.”

Lucian let go of her knees to pluck up a blade of grass, twirling it between her fingers. “I, um. I’ve been thinking.”

“Always a dangerous pastime.”

“No kidding.” She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “About the bodies.”

Alucard was quiet.

“Their throats were slit,” Lucian said. “But their nightgowns were clean; they didn’t die like that.”

He inhaled sharply. “Lucian—”

“And whatever you and Trevor talked about, he’s… stiff,” Lucian said. “Shaken. Alucard, did they—?”

“I suppose we’d better tell Sypha now that you’ve figured it out, too,” he said bitterly. “Are you going to give me a lecture on my sins now? The both of them at once, and one a man at that—”

“Since when am I ever the sort of person to lecture people on sin?” Lucian said, baffled. “Alucard, what—where is this coming from? Are you mad at me?”

“ _I’m angry at myself._ ”

The silence stretched out between them. He wished she would speak, say something—anything. He shuddered and put his head in his hands.

Lucian finally shifted on the grass to sit on her heels facing him. “You were a victim just as much as I was,” she said, but he shook his head.

“Lucian, you don’t understand. I _let_ them do it. Trevor figured it out for himself; it turns out he’s not as much of an idiot as he looks, sometimes.”

“You asked him not to tell us, didn’t you?” Lucian said, and Alucard nodded curtly. “Alucard, we can help you. Please don’t push us away, we’re not _them_.”

“I know,” Alucard said. “But while they were in bed with me…” Fuck. Having to say it to Trevor had been hard enough, but with Lucian, he didn’t think he could bear her rejection. “I… imagined it was the three of you instead.”

Lucian blinked. “ _Oh._ ”

“You must think me mad,” Alucard said, turning away from her.

“Can I touch your arm?” Lucian said quietly. He jerked his head in a nod, though he still went stiff when her fingers curled over his shoulder. He looked up at her, and she gave him a nervous smile.

“I don’t think you’re mad,” she said. “And, um. What a time to drop this, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to say for a while and it just never seemed right, but you’ve shared that and I guess what I’m trying to say is—I-I love… you.”

“ _Lucian…?_ ”

“Okay, there. I said it. I. I love you.” Her hand dropped to fidget with the hem of her tunic, heart hammering wildly in her chest.

Alucard’s breath seemed to freeze in his chest, but his shoulders sagged, the tension running out of his body which had been wound so tightly until then. She didn’t think less of him for what had happened. If anything…

“Do you remember that night we went out over the forest?” Alucard said, and his fingers sought out hers. Lucian swallowed, but nodded, and he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “That was when I realised it, too. And then you died, and all I could think about was how I’d never said…”

“So I came back in a perfect second chance and you still didn’t?” Lucian said, smiling as tears sprang to her eyes. “You _dumbass._ ” She held up a hand towards his face, but let him close the distance. Tentative, careful. Trusting.

“I want to make it right,” Alucard said, and leaned into her touch. 

Their foreheads pressed together, and then he moved to cover her mouth with his own.

There was a gentleness and hesitancy to kissing her, neither of them familiar with the experience, still shaken from the events of the last week. But she was everything he’d imagined, her lips soft, the potent, electrifying buzz of holy energy that ran beneath her skin. She smelled like sunlight and tasted like the stew they’d had for lunch, and it was _her._ A hand came up to tangle in her hair, loosely gripping the shaggy strands. 

Lucian’s eyes closed and she shifted closer to him. It was hardly the sweeping romantic moment she’d often fantasised about, the kiss soft and chaste and nervous. His lips were cool on hers, moving slowly, carefully, like he was afraid they would both shatter if he moved too fast.

It lasted both too long and not long enough, but when they broke apart, Lucian was beginning to tremble and Alucard had gone very still.

“That… was…”

“Nice.” He forced himself to move, carefully brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. It fell back down, too short to stay in place, and he smiled uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” Lucian asked, and he took a moment to think before he answered.

“I’m not,” he finally said. “But I will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And it only took 38 chapters to get to this point!
> 
> We'll be back with Trevor and Sypha next time, never fear. ;)


	39. Chapter 39

Alucard and Lucian headed back to the castle, neither of them quite able to look at each other. A faint blush still lingered on Lucian’s cheeks when they reached the doors just in time for Sypha and Trevor to come outside. Sypha looked distinctly rattled, and she stopped when she saw Alucard.

“We went looking for a bedroom,” she said, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. This would be the last time he had to go over it— _again_ —but he already felt stretched so thin, nerves frayed to Hell and back.

“Alucard, we never should have left you,” Sypha said gently. 

“If you hadn’t, my father would have been unleashed upon the world once more,” Alucard said at long last, opening his eyes to see tears welling up in Sypha’s. He just sighed and looked at Trevor. “I suppose you told her everything.”

“Don’t be stupid, she figured it out on her own,” he said, glancing at Lucian. “Uh…”

“She did as well,” Alucard said, dragging a hand down his face. 

“We’re right here, you know,” Sypha said, folding her arms. 

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Alucard said. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you still need help unloading the wagon?” he asked in a deliberate change of subject. He’d talked about it enough for one day—for one lifetime, really.

“We’ve got most of it,” Trevor said. “Should be a clear night tonight, but we’ll have to figure out what to do with the horses tomorrow.”

Alucard turned to properly survey the area. “We could build a stable if you plan on staying long,” he said, and became very aware of the thick silence that fell behind him. He bowed his head slightly. “You’re not.”

“We have to make sure Wallachia is safe. Come with us this time,” Sypha urged, taking his hand. He stilled at her touch before letting her lace her fingers loosely through his. “We can find a way to seal up the castle and the hold.”

“It would be risky,” Alucard said, looking down at their linked hands before becoming aware of Trevor’s gaze boring into him. He pulled his hands away, folding his arms as he looked up at the castle in thought. “We would have to ward all the entrances, and there are many.”

Lucian cleared her throat. “And we’d probably have to do something about the gaping hole that leads to the hold now,” she sad. “We built a lift,” she added excitedly to Trevor. “You really have to see it at some point.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “First carpentry, then coming back from the dead—”

“Oh, don’t you start, too,” she said, swatting his arm. “Alucard did most of the work, I just helped.”

“You were an excellent assistant,” he said, and Lucian’s cheeks reddened again. “So,” he said to Sypha, “what do you think, Speaker magician? Would it be doable?”

Sypha clapped her hands together. “Time for more research,” she said excitedly. 

“I could help with anything Latin or Greek,” Lucian offered. “Alucard’s been making me improve my reading.”

“I _think_ what we’ll be looking for will be in much older languages,” Sypha said, glancing at Alucard. 

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We shall see.”

“Well, that’s great,” Trevor said sullenly, folding his arms. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime, then?” 

“I mean, if I won’t be much help to them,” Lucian said after a moment’s thought, “think we could pick back up the weapon practice?”

Trevor smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

* * *

“Go easy on her,” Alucard said before he and Sypha descended into the hold to start their research. “She’s been having lung problems ever since the pneumonia.”

Trevor stared at him for a moment. “She—you know what, I’ll ask her,” he said, and gave Sypha a soft peck on the cheek before gently shoving her towards Alucard. 

“It sounds like we missed a lot more than what you’ve told us,” Sypha said as she headed across the grass toward the hold. Alucard remained in place for a second longer, looking between Trevor and Sypha.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and turned to follow her.

Trevor remembered what the dhampir had said, all too well. And he knew what he’d said to Sypha all those weeks ago—that though he didn’t mind inviting Lucian to their bed, Alucard was right out—but between their reunion after so long and Alucard’s confession, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was starting to reconsider.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. 

Bad enough he thought he was falling for another man, but his ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they knew it was a _dhampir._

He heard Lucian’s footsteps pounding across the grass, and she skidded to a halt beside him, collapsed spear in hand and breathing heavily, a wide grin on her face. 

“So,” Trevor said, studying her. “Alucard said something about pneumonia while you were upstairs?”

Lucian expanded the spear and grimaced. “Yeah.. you remember how Dracula tried to rip out my collarbone?”

“Vividly.”

Lucian pulled aside the collar of her tunic to show him the angry red puncture scars. “They kind of got infected. And then developed into pneumonia. And because I’ve never been sick before—”

“Because of the healing?”

Lucian nodded. “I was in a bad shape for a while. But, uh, weirdly enough, since coming back, my lungs feel fine? Maybe Alucard shouldn’t have spent all that effort to keep me alive,” she added, mouth twisting in a wry smile.

Despite himself, Trevor snorted. He knew the jokes were just as much a coping mechanism as his drinking, but if she could find humour in the whole fucked-up situation, he hoped it meant she would be okay.

“Let’s start with some basic drills first, then,” he said. “Two months is a long time to go without practice, and you didn’t exactly have much to begin with.”

Lucian settled into the stance he’d taught her, and he nodded with approval, drawing his sword. 

“Let’s begin.”

* * *

The last time they’d been in the hold, Alucard and Sypha did most of their research independent of each other, racing against time to find a way to stop Dracula. Now, though, they sat at a table in the hold together in a comfortable silence as they read, occasionally passing the other a book when they thought they’d found something useful.

Sypha had definitely noticed the gouges in the floor where Lucian had been bound, but Alucard had scrubbed away her blood until his own hands were raw and there wasn’t a trace of it left. The Speaker instead chose to comment on the lights he’d installed, and Alucard allowed himself a faint smile. 

“I’ll have to tell you how they work at some point,” he said, and from there they split off to peruse the shelves before reconvening with stacks upon stacks of books written in long-dead languages.

Sypha seemed engrossed in her reading, but Alucard kept glancing over at her before he sat back in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it. “Are you and Belmont together?” he said, and Sypha’s hand flew up to her cheek. 

“Yes,” she admitted. “Since not long after we left, actually.”

“You said you knew the rest of the prophecy,” Alucard pressed, and Sypha let her hand fall back onto the page of the book, face going nearly as red as her hair. 

“About restoring the Belmont Clan? Yes,” Sypha said, her voice squeaking a little on the last word.

“Well. Good luck to you both,” Alucard said wryly, squashing down how his heart twisted. Trevor had said he hadn’t told Sypha anything, which meant his darker fantasies were a secret from her for the time being. 

“Well,” Sypha said, scratching her nose and looking suddenly rather more embarrassed, “I’ve kind of… also had something going with Lucian.”

Alucard blinked.

He stared. 

“I—I’m sorry?”

“Oh, come on,” Sypha said. “She didn’t tell you once in two months?”

“She rather neglected to do so, yes.” Alucard paused. “Especially seeing as we only kissed this morning.”

Sypha’s eyes widened, and she laughed, throwing her head back. “But that’s wonderful,” she said. “Oh, Trevor is going to be so disappointed, he was certain the two of you would become a couple while we were gone.”

Alucard could only stare at her in disbelief. “You’re… very relaxed about this whole business.”

Sypha shrugged, grinning widely from ear to ear. “It would hardly be the first relationship of mine with multiple partners,” she said. “And it would all work out rather nicely, don’t you think?”

Fingers of ice wrapped around Alucard’s chest, squeezing like the brands. “Sypha, I—I would need to think about it.”

Understanding and horror dawned on her face and she nodded hastily. “Yes—of course,” she said, and immediately turned back to her book, looking mortified. “We should keep looking,” she said into the painfully awkward silence. “This spell isn’t going to research itself while we gossip. Er—hand me that green tome? The Muromian one.”

Alucard passed it over to her and tried to return to his reading, but his eyes kept skittering over the words on the page, re-reading the same passage over and over while the same thoughts chased themselves around his brain.

* * *

Lucian and Trevor decided to call it as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Lucian offered to conjure lights, but Trevor waved her off, saying he didn’t want to overwork her as it was. He’d barely broken a sweat, but she was drenched in it and had long since taken off her tunic, all sense of shame gone.

“Yes, I’ve got a man’s chest, yes, I’ve got scars, moving on,” she’d said impatiently, tossing her tunic to the side. 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said honestly, and twisted to the side when she lunged with the spear. They danced across the grass, Trevor keeping on her toes and calling out instruction whenever he noticed her stumble. 

Lucian conjured a blinding ball of radiance in her hand, lobbing it at Trevor, and he squinted against the sudden brightness, freezing when he felt something prick at his throat.

“Not bad,” he said approvingly, blinking spots out of his eyes to see Lucian holding the tip of her spear to his neck. Fast as a snake, he ducked backwards, hand catching the shaft of her weapon and twisting it out of the way, dragging her in closer and holding the heavy pommel of the Morning Star against her temple, their faces close together. “But you’re still dead.”

“Give me a few days and then I’m coming back for you,” Lucian said. She collapsed the spear and tucked it in her waist sash, going back to her tunic and mopping her face with it, her head twitching against the fabric as she muffled another round of tics.

Trevor watched how her shoulderblades moved, the ropy scars that crossed over her back. She would have healed that away by now if she could, he was certain of it. Whatever those bastards had used on her and Alucard to keep the both of them from healing must have been dark. Evil.

And likely, he thought, mouth twisting in a sour frown, a trophy from his family’s collections.

“Lucian,” he said as she pulled her now-damp tunic back on, tucking it into her sash, “you know you don’t have to put up a front for us, right?”

“I’m not?” she said in confusion, glancing at him.

“You keep making those jokes,” he said. “Admittedly _kind_ of funny, but they’re still fucked up. I mean—you died.”

“Not for long,” Lucian pointed out, and Trevor groaned.

“Look, if that’s your way of coping, then fine, I won’t tell you not to,” he said. “But if you’re doing it for our sakes—don’t.”

“I’m not,” Lucian said, and she sounded genuinely bewildered. “I just—come on, it’s a little funny, isn’t it?”

Trevor stared at her. 

She stared back.

“What?” she finally said. 

“You’re a very strange priest, Enache,” he finally said, and Lucian rolled her eyes—though she wrapped her arms around herself, scuffing a toe against the ground.

“Yeah, never heard that one before,” she said. 

The sensation of blades plunging into her chest flashed through her mind and she flinched, turning away. “C’mon—we can make dinner while we wait for the others. Don’t suppose you can cook anything that’s not over a campfire?”

“I can,” Trevor protested. “...In theory. I didn’t know you could.”

“Oh, I was hopeless before Alucard started showing me what to do,” she said cheerfully. “Most I could do was baked fish, and that was always a Lent dish.”

Trevor wrinkled his nose. “Anything but that.”

“We’ve got a bit of food left over from foraging,” Lucian said as she headed back into the castle. “I’m sure I could duplicate it just fine for us.”

Trevor nearly stumbled over the last step. “You can do that, now?”

“Oh—yeah,” Lucian said. “Been experimenting, a little bit, with, um.” She tapped her fingers together in a gesture he was starting to become familiar with. “With what I can do, you know? Turns out multiplication’s, uh, one of them.”

“Is it, now?” Trevor raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth. “Say, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a Saint Brigid—”

“I’m not making you a beer lake,” Lucian threw over her shoulder, and Trevor laughed. “...Besides, if I _was_ going to conjure alcohol, it’d be the good stuff,” she added.

“Have you _tried?_ ” Trevor asked, and Lucian paused.

“Not yet,” she finally said. She glanced up at him, and grinned. “Wanna find out?”

* * *

“So, there I was, right?” Trevor said, slamming his mug back down on the table. It was a good thing Lucian had spared a moment to mend it, because the abuse they were putting it through would likely have shattered it after the damage Alucard had inflicted that morning. “Trousers ‘round my ankles, shirt half-on, and what did those bastards try to do?”

“Rob you?” Lucian snickered, taking a large gulp from her own mug.

“They tried to fucking rob me!” Trevor said indignantly. “Not even a concept of a fair fight, just a man done with his bath who should’ve been easy pickings.”

“And you kicked their asses?”

“I kicked their asses,” Trevor said, and peered down into the contents of his mug. “I mean, I pulled my trousers up, first.”

“Should’ve run at them naked,” Lucian said. She hiccupped. “Make them fear for their lives.”

Trevor barked out a laugh. “Maybe next time, I will,” he said. “Just—just fuckin’ watch me.”

Lucian giggled and poured out another round for the pair of them. Rich, burning ţuică, strong and very, very delicious. She hadn’t been expecting that, when she drew water from the kitchen tap, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. “You’re a good enough fighter you could’a taken them on regardless,” she said. “ _Wow_ , this stuff is good.”

“Better than communion wine, I’ll bet,” Trevor said, and Lucian laughed, slumping back in her chair. 

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and Lucian had conjured up half a dozen balls of light, sending them out to the different corners of the kitchen. The warm glow illuminated the pair of them, though she couldn’t help but feel she was forgetting something…

“Oh!” She snapped her fingers and sat up straighter, only to fall back in her seat again. “Should’ve probably done candles, right?”

“Who gives a shit?” Trevor said, lifting his mug. “To magic… Jesus… bullshit.”

Lucian clanked her own mug against his, and the pair drank deeply.

The kitchen door banged open, and Alucard and Sypha came in, Kerberos at their heels.

Sypha took one look at the hunter and the priest slouched over the table and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“...The one time you attempt to miracle up alcohol,” Alucard said, picking up the pitcher and sniffing it curiously. 

“Oh, shut up?” Lucian said, her head lolling back. “It’s good, it’s _real_ good. I did a good job. And I’m practicing!” She beamed at him. “Are you proud of me?”

“Immensely,” Alucard sighed, and turned to Sypha. “Do you know your way around a kitchen?”

“Mostly around a campfire, but I’m a quick learner,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder—and for once, he didn’t flinch away. “Put me to work.”

So she found herself in a whirlwind of activity as Alucard directed her to chop and stir while Lucian and Trevor laughed at the table, Kerberos yipping from Lucian’s lap—and Sypha knew she wanted to do this possibly forever.

Here, the four of them were safe from the outside world, if only for a little while. Here, she could forget the horrors of Lindenfeld, forget the misplaced trust she’d put in the Judge.

It was like being held in Trevor’s arms, or surrounded by the glow of the Speakers’ fires.

Because, at least for the time being, it was warm and safe with the company of her friends and lovers. It couldn’t last forever—but Sypha was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

A rich, but still very simple ciorbă de perişoare—buttery, meatball soup—would be good after a long day of work for all of them. Sypha glanced over at Alucard as they readied the ingredients, the sounds of their companions’ drunken laughter ringing behind them.

“We missed you, you know,” she said softly. “Every day.”

Alucard’s hair obscured his face as he diced the vegetables, his hands practiced and deliberate. “I didn’t,” he said, and finally turned to look at her. “But… we missed you, too. Even Belmont.”

Sypha’s mouth twitched up in a smile. “It will be good to travel again,” she said, and Alucard let out a dramatic sigh.

“I still won’t sleep next to him unless you can promise me he bathes regularly.”

Sypha laughed, setting the knife down to cover her mouth. “I promise,” she said. “Please, Alucard—I have _standards_.”

“You could have fooled me.”

She reached out to swat his arm, only to draw back at the last second when she realised that wouldn’t be such a good idea. 

“Admit it,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Trevor and Lucian, who had started swapping stories—Trevor of the trouble he’d gotten into as a vagabond, Lucian of the times she’d accidentally broken the cathedral's holy relics growing up. “You’re fond of him.”

Alucard sighed, but she could see the smile that curved his cheeks. “Fine,” he said at last. “I am.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has this been something I've wanted to write since day one? Oh no, not at all, why do you ask?

Trevor lay awake in the dark long after their bedside candle had burned out, staring sullenly at the ceiling and trying to sort out his thoughts. He and Sypha had meant to chat after dinner, but he’d been too drunk and she always managed to fall asleep so quickly that they’d never had the chance.

So he’d ended up laying awake, Sypha curled on his arm as she snored softly and he slowly sobered up, trying to sort out his regretfully clearer thoughts.

He wasn’t _blind_ , he could see damn well enough Alucard was gorgeous. He kept replaying their interactions over in his head and could only keep coming to the conclusion he was steadily arriving at with dawning horror: the main reason for their banter had stemmed from his distrust of a _dhampir_ , and it had simply carried on from there.

And kept growing fonder over time.

They kept it up out of familiarity grown from animosity that was no longer there. And Trevor _hated_ it.

He’d had passing thoughts of sleeping with other men before, but he’d always brushed them off as intrusive, unwanted, or at worst drunk imaginings he’d never have entertained otherwise. Trevor was finally starting to come to the conclusion that they might not have been passing fantasies after all.

Sypha tossed in her sleep, her face contorting, and Trevor’s arm tightened around her, using his free hand to caress her face. Sypha relaxed at his touch, and she pressed up against him—and he recoiled when one of her icy feet found its way to his thigh.

“Seriously,” he grunted, pushing it away, “how are your feet so bloody cold?”

Sypha turned the other way, curling in on herself, and Trevor carefully extracted his arm from underneath her.

“I love you,” he said softly, and left a gentle kiss on the nape of her neck before rolling out of bed and tugging on his breeches.

If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well wander the castle.

* * *

“Alucard?”

He shot up in bed, heart hammering when he heard Lucian’s soft voice and hesitant knocking outside his door. But then he heard her footsteps moving on, and he forced out the images of _them_ opening the door, inviting themselves in—

He crossed the room in an instant and wrenched the door open, and Lucian turned, her face lighting up despite the dark circles under her eyes, illuminated so clearly by the radiance that hung near her shoulder. He tried not to focus on how she wore one of his nightshirts—how much it reminded him of _them_.

“You moved rooms,” she said, and he briefly glanced away.

“I haven’t cleaned the other one, yet,” Alucard finally said. “Lucian, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She paused. “Well, tried to. Don’t want to try again. And…” She scuffed a bare foot against the carpet that lined the corridor. “Thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone, either.”

Alucard hesitated. On the one hand—he was _terrified_. Terrified to let somebody else into his room, to sit on his bed, even if nothing happened between them—but on the other, this was Lucian. He’d cared for her when she was sick, she’d tried to care for him emotionally. 

He trusted her much more implicitly in her actions.

“Alright,” he said, though he swallowed. “Come in.”

Lucian trailed after him, and they sat on the bed; his nightshirt barely covered his legs, and in a way he wanted to tug it lower, to hide the marks of what had happened to him—but Lucian was nearly as tall as he was, the shirt covering barely any more, and she didn’t seem ashamed. Just small and scared and folded in on herself, he thought, watching as she perched nervously on the edge of the bed.

“My dreams have a way of picking up where they left off,” she said, and that was all the explanation he needed.

“Can I hug you?”

Lucian glanced up at him and bit her lip, but she nodded. She shivered when he wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders before relaxing into his side.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, and he was starting to become familiar with how she liked to use that phrase to lead into dangerous territory, so he tensed until she looked up at him, biting her lip nervously. “Uh—oh, God, this is really embarrassing, but… virgin’s blood is supposed to be good for vampires, right?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes slightly, not wholly sure where she was going with this. “It’s said to be the sweetest,” he said at long last. “And to have better healing properties compared to other human blood, but—”

“I still am,” Lucian blurted out. “Uh.” Even in the dark, he could see how her face still reddened. “A… virgin.” And here she paused, drawing back, wrinkling her nose and looking more affronted than he’d ever seen her. “ _Fuck_ , I died a virgin!”

“Lucian?” he said in alarm, but she waved a hand even as she chuckled bitterly. 

“Just laughing at the unfairness of it all,” Lucian said. “But still, come _on._ I’m nineteen, you’d think I could have found a stableboy back in Gresit or—”

“Would you have wanted to?” Alucard said tentatively, and Lucian broke off.

She sighed and looked away, hissing through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft_. “No,” she said. “I’m still allowed to be mad about it, though.”

He chuckled softly and raised a tentative hand to card through her hair, messy from her disturbed sleep. “Yes,” he said. “You are.”

She turned to him, and after a moment where their eyes met, they leaned in. 

Lucian’s heart thudded in her chest and she shifted on the bed to face more towards Alucard, getting a hand up to tangle in his own hair. Beautiful, soft hair she couldn’t help but envy, and her fingers wrapped around it to pull him in closer to her. 

_How was it he always smelled so sweet?_ she wondered, tongue darting out to slide along his lower lip. Alucard gasped into the kiss, and faster than she could follow, he had her pinned on her back, hair falling around their faces like a curtain.

“Wait,” Lucian stuttered, and he let go of her hands immediately, eyes widening.

“I’m sor—”

“I said wait, not stop,” Lucian said, her fingers lacing together behind his neck. “Just… can’t…”

“I know,” he murmured, against her mouth. “Or should have known. Are you—?”

Lucian groaned when his knees squeezed her hips, and she could feel him pressing between her legs, a flash of fire pooling in her stomach. She cupped his face, holding him just far enough away they weren’t touching. “F-fine,” she stuttered. “You’re not…?”

“I…” Alucard’s body seemed to unwind in an instant, and he swung his leg off of her. Lucian was both disappointed and relieved at once. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted, keeping a hand on her shoulder, and Lucian pressed into the touch, shivering even as she did so. “It’s like… I want to forget. And going about it, laying with another person so soon seems like the _worst_ way to do it—”

“I don’t think so,” Lucian said slowly. She caught his hand and kissed his palm before laying it against her cheek, closing her eyes. “I would sometimes receive women at the church who had been raped—”

Alucard stiffened and drew away from her, sitting up. “I wasn’t,” he said sharply, and Lucian sat up as well.

He hated how _gentle_ her expression was.

“Fine,” she said. “Maybe we don’t have a word for it, but whatever they did to you—you want control back, don’t you?”

Alucard’s stomach churned and his fingers knotted in the sheets of his new bed, unmarred by blood or—any other bodily fluids. “...Yes,” he said, unable to meet her gaze.

“That’s not _not_ normal,” Lucian said. “I think it’s just how you’re trying to cope.”

“Must you sound so pitying about it?” Alucard said, and shivered when Lucian cradled his cheek.

“Alucard, I—I can’t get rid of my own scars,” she said, hating how her voice halted. “But what if I could get rid of yours?”

He drew back, staring at her. “Lucian, I told you—I don’t drink human blood.”

“But what if it helped?” Lucian said. “What if it could—could take that away?”

Alucard was quiet, warring inside himself.

He’d sworn since he was a child he wouldn’t partake in human blood, but—if it was freely given—without coercion, and of her own idea—was it as monstrous as he’d imagined it to be?

The vats of blood in his Gresit tomb had been of cattle, slaughtered outside the city and drained in the hopes they’d rejuvenate his wounds. It had been enough to keep him alive, though not heal him completely, and he did have to admit the thought had crossed his mind that just _maybe_ —

But he could never.

But with permission?

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he finally said, a finger tracing the curve of her ear. “Human blood is supposed to be… ecstatic. I’ve never had it before; I might not be able to stop.”

“So get Trevor, then,” Lucian said. “He’d smack you off me with that chain of his or—or tell you to stop using me as your personal keg, but either way…”

Alucard’s eyebrow crept towards his hairline. “You really think he’d agree to stand by and let me drink from your neck?”

Lucian was certain her face was bright red, but she nodded once, firmly. “If I told him I was fine with it and we wanted him to make sure nothing happened?”

“You’re hardly making a case for yourself.”

“I can do this, Alucard,” Lucian said, and pressed another soft kiss to his mouth. He leaned into it, disappointed when it turned out to be brief. “I _want_ to do this, if it could help you.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’d know we tried.”

Their eyes locked in a stalemate, neither one wanting to back down.

“You are incredibly stubborn,” Alucard finally sighed, looking away.

Lucian caught his hand. “Look—if you don’t want to because of—whatever, that’s fine,” she said. “I _do_ want this to be your choice. But it’s my choice, too; I’m letting you take it if you want to try.”

Alucard’s hands settled on her shoulders. “You trust me that much?”

Lucian’s eyes were bright in the darkness. “You saved my life,” she said. “In… more ways than one. Alucard, I trust you. Completely.”

He wasn’t going to cry. He kissed her again, a faint whisper of a touch, before nudging her to leave. “We can ask him in the morning—”

“Oh, Trevor’s awake now,” Lucian said. “I ran into him while I was looking for you.”

* * *

They found Trevor in the castle’s greenhouse, staring at the vines full of plump, ripe red fruits Alucard’s father had said were called _xitomatl_. He turned at their footsteps—or Lucian’s, anyway, eyebrow going up when he saw they were both dressed. Lucian was wearing one of Alucard’s low-necked shirts, the scars on her chest and collarbone easily visible.

“I don’t suppose you came to admire the plants,” Trevor said.

“We came to ask a favour, actually,” Lucian said when Alucard was silent. “I want him to bite me.”

Trevor jolted and turned to fully look at them at that. “You— _what?_ ”

“Virgin’s blood is supposed to have healing properties for a vampire,” Lucian said stubbornly.

“Hang on, you died a—?”

“ _Not the point_ ,” Lucian snapped. “He agreed to it, we just want you there in case it goes sideways.”

Trevor looked at Alucard, who seemed deeply interested in a grapevine and not at all in meeting Trevor’s gaze. “You really agreed to this?”

“Tentatively, yes,” Alucard said. His eyes fixed on Trevor at long last. “Trevor, I’ve never had human blood before. We want you to be there if… if it goes wrong.”

Trevor barely spared a moment to realise Alucard had called him by his first name; something warm blossomed in his chest when he realised they trusted him. And then it was dashed barely an instant later.

“You’re both insane,” he said. “Lucian, you’re playing with fire. What if I can’t get him off you in time? You don’t know you’ll come back twice.”

“I trust _him_ ,” Lucian said stubbornly. “Asking you is just a precaution.”

“Fucking hell. Idiots, the both of you,” Trevor said. “You’re going to go ahead with this if I say no, aren’t you?”

“No,” Alucard said, even as Lucian said, “Yes.”

“ _Lucian_.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Lucian said, and her hand went to her neck. “Dracula’s claws never healed for me, but yours did.”

Trevor was _not_ about to open that particular bag of worms. 

“...Fine,” Alucard said, his fingers brushing over her own. He glanced up at Trevor. “Belmont?”

Trevor sighed, hand going to the chain coiled at his hip. The least he could do was try to keep these idiots alive. “Where do you want to do this?”

* * *

They picked one of the parlours near the greenhouse, dusty from disuse but still serviceable. Lucian and Alucard sat on the sofa, and Trevor stood over the dhampir, Morning Star in hand.

“Sypha’d kill us if she knew we were doing this,” he remarked, and Lucian glanced up at him.

“We’ll tell her in the morning,” she said.

“When you’re hopefully still alive,” Trevor said curtly.

“Not that that’s ever stopped me before.”

Alucard’s fingers curled over her collar, tugging it carefully to the side. “This will likely be intense,” he said, his voice low. “For the both of us.”

Lucian drew back a little bit, and for the first time, fear was in her eyes. “Intense how?”

“...Pleasurable,” Alucard admitted, and Trevor had to stifle a laugh into the crook of his elbow. “Vampire saliva while feeding is a powerful aphrodisiac, and I’m not sure how that might have carried over for me.”

“... _Oh_ ,” Lucian squeaked. She shot a look up at Trevor, who raised his eyebrows at her, and glanced back to Alucard. His gold eyes studied her face, and she bit her lip before slowly letting out a breath.

“Alright,” she said, covering his hand with her own and tugging her collar away from her neck. “Let’s do this.”

Alucard leaned in slowly, and goosebumps erupted along Lucian’s neck when she felt his breath on her skin. He hesitated, and for a moment she wondered if he was having second thoughts, but then she felt his fangs scrape over her skin, ever so lightly, and she realised he was trying to pick a place to bite her.

And then his fangs sank into the crook of her neck, and Lucian’s pupils went huge, vision going blank. There was a short, sharp burst of pain before immense pleasure radiated through her body, and warmth curled in her chest, her stomach, between her _legs_ , and Alucard slowly withdrew his fangs before he began to suck from the bite.

Lucian moaned, her head falling back against the sofa, and she barely registered Trevor’s hand coming up before she gasped out “No, it’s—it’s good—”

And then she was lost to the pleasure. 

Touching herself, fantasising about Alucard or Trevor or Sypha, fingers plunged inside her, had never been this good, and Lucian was certain the noises she was making were obscene—

And Alucard’s hands were roaming her chest, he’d climbed onto her lap, and she could feel his erection pressed against her stomach as he moaned against her neck, drinking deeply. His hands found her hips and he squeezed hard enough to leave bruises, and all she could do was press up into his touch, hips bucking against his own.

“I am never going to recover from seeing this,” Trevor muttered, averting his eyes.

Alucard’s scars itched and he could _feel_ their rawness closing over, if only barely. It hardly registered in his mind—Lucian’s blood wasn’t just virgin, but _holy_ , and it burned his throat like wine going down, a sharp, sweet tang to it that he knew would not be found in another human.

She was painfully, deliciously good, and he wanted to drain her dry.

Lucian quivered beneath him, gasping, her hands tugging at his hair, the sharp little yanks only serving to intensify the pleasure.

“H-h-holy _fuck_ , Alucard—” And Lucian’s head fell back, the blood flowing more freely even as her body shuddered, breath coming in short, quick gasps, her legs tightening around his waist before she relaxed with a soft sigh.

“Alucard?” Trevor’s voice pierced his senses, and he immediately lifted his head, swiping his tongue over the puncture marks on Lucian’s neck to seal them. The last few drops of her blood lingered on his lips, and he licked them away, staring down at her.

“Fuck,” Lucian whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. She could taste her blood on his lips, strangely tantalising. 

“Oh, okay, you’re doing this now,” Trevor said, looking away. “If you two wanted to fuck, you know you could have just done that, right?”

Alucard slowly drew away from Lucian, studying her pale face. “I didn’t realise it would be that… intense,” he said, not giving Trevor the satisfaction of looking over to him. 

“Yeah,” Lucian said, very breathless. “I, um. Sorry you had to see that?”

Trevor groaned, re-coiling the Morning Star and affixing it to his belt. “Sypha’s going to be disappointed she missed out,” was all he said, not wanting to admit they’d given him a great deal to think about later. “I’m going back to bed. Try not to kill her again, Alucard?”

“Believe me, I won’t,” Alucard said. 

He didn’t look up, but he heard Trevor hesitate for a moment before heading out.

“That was… honestly amazing?” Lucian said, her hands raking lightly over his back.

Alucard swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat and nodded. He remained on her lap, fingers gripping her hips.

“Uh,” Lucian said when she realised they were staring at each other. “Did it work?”

Alucard drew back from her enough to tug his already-low collar even lower, looking up at the ceiling as he did so. Lucian’s fingers tentatively splayed on his chest. 

“A little,” she finally said. “They’re not so raw anymore, at least.”

“Lucian, I…” Alucard’s breath hitched, and he caught her face in his hands, pulling her in for a kiss.

She laid back on the sofa and he followed, getting an arm beneath her to support her neck. 

“I’m glad it helped,” Lucian said, and she grinned, that damn dimple and buck teeth unfairly cute on her. “And for what it’s worth, I’d absolutely want you to do that again. Whenever you liked.”

Alucard let his fingers trail over her face. “Let’s wait until you’ve replenished your blood,” he said, and Lucian immediately tugged her collar down to show the bite marks had vanished.

Colour was already returning to her cheeks as she said, “Healing, remember?”

“You tempt me,” Alucard said, even as he wanted to sink his fangs into her neck again. “But… another time.”

They walked back to their rooms, arms loosely around each other, but it wasn’t until they’d gotten to the doors that they looked at each other again.

“I… don’t… really want to be alone tonight,” Lucian said, swallowing.

A thrill of terror ran through Alucard’s chest, but he slowly nodded. “Would you… like to stay with me?”

“If that’s okay,” Lucian said, and he let his hand fall to the small of her back, guiding her inside.

They didn’t bother with nightclothes, simply stripping down to their underthings before crawling under the covers.

They didn’t hug, but Lucian’s hand sought his out beneath the blankets, and Alucard let his fingers close around hers.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but hopefully satisfying.

Alucard woke up cold. He blearily opened his eyes and froze when he realised Lucian was half-draped over his chest, wrapped in blankets she’d somehow managed to cocoon around her legs while they’d slept. He had no idea when Kerberos had joined them, either, but the pug’s eye was closed in what appeared to be sleep, tucked under Lucian’s arm that wasn’t wrapped over Alucard’s waist.

A thin strand of drool dribbled onto his shoulder from her mouth, and he wiped it away with a thumb. He was familiar with the coolness of her hands, but her body was warm against his, their chests pressed together. He could feel her heartbeat against his ribs, slow and steady.

He could get used to this.

Tentatively, Alucard let his hand trail over her back, fingers tracing the shape of her shoulderblade, closing his eyes at the rise and fall of her chest from her breathing. His hand stilled when it ran over the knotted ridges of scars that crossed her back, and then he let it drop to the side.

She’d managed to partially heal his wounds the night before, but there was nothing he could do for her in turn.

Aside from let her sleep. It was the best thing for her right then, her fastest route to recovery.

Alucard still tugged the corner of the blankets free from under her legs to cover his own, and Lucian stirred at the movement.

“Aluc—?”

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, turning his face against her hair, which stuck up at odd angles and tickled his nose. “You’re safe.”

Lucian yawned and drifted off against his chest once more.

* * *

When Sypha woke, she found Trevor staring up at the ceiling, jaw set in thought.

“You look very grumpy to be awake,” she said, and Trevor turned his head to look at her.

“Not grumpy,” he said. “Just… thinking.”

“About?” Sypha asked, her fingers trailing over his chest.

Trevor rolled over so he was on top of her, and she grinned slowly when she felt his hard dick between her legs.

“Some stuff went down last night while you were asleep,” Trevor said, and kissed slowly down her jawline. Sypha arched up against him, even as her eyes widened at his words. “Turns out the priest’s kept her vow of celibacy until now and wanted to try to use her virgin blood to heal Alucard. And it was much more attractive to watch than it should have been. Honestly, I think she _came_ with him perched on her lap—”

Sypha gasped and pushed Trevor’s face away. “And you didn’t wake me for it?” she said indignantly.

“Sypha, you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages,” Trevor pointed out, and Sypha let her head fall back to the pillows with a groan. “Besides, I think with how much they enjoyed it, you’ll get plenty more opportunities to watch in the future.”

“So you got to indulge in low-key voyeurism while I slept?" Sypha said, and Trevor’s hands ran down her sides to settle at her hips. “Well now—I think you should really make that up to me, don’t you?”

Trevor’s mouth was against hers then, and Sypha’s lips parted to let him slide his tongue into her mouth. Their breath was stale after sleep, though, and they quickly broke apart, grimacing before grinning sheepishly at each other.

“Believe me,” Trevor said, and left a trail of tiny kisses over her shoulders, goosebumps springing up in their wake, “I absolutely intend to.”

He pushed the collar of her nightgown down, freeing her breasts, and Sypha shivered when her nipples hardened between the sensations of the cold air and the fabric under her breasts.

Her back arched as Trevor slowly, achingly made his way down to her chest, catching a nipple in his mouth. The slightest hint of teeth, just how she liked it, and Sypha was putty beneath him, moaning softly. His hands roamed down her sides before throwing off the blankets—over her ribs, her hips, and he pushed up her nightgown so his thumbs could rub over the small bush of red hair between her legs, before sliding ever so lower to find her most sensitive spot.

“ _Trevor_ ,” she gasped, and wrapped her legs around him, ankles crossing over his shoulders.

He let go of her nipple just long enough to say, “I said I’d make it up to you, didn’t I?” and when Sypha whimpered her approval, he ducked between her breasts, tongue teasing along her sternum while his thumbs worked her clit in little circles, sending tiny waves of pleasure through her body that left her shuddering with each one.

Really, she never expected him to be as attentive a partner as he was—and she loved him all the more for it.

One of his hands moved lower, a finger slipping inside her and stroking the small spot of roughness that left her moaning. Sypha arched her hips against his hand, and though Trevor tried to push her back down, the effort was half-hearted.

She was the one in charge, and they both knew it. Trevor loved it, loved how she knew exactly what she wanted from him and that he knew how to give it—and when she eventually pushed him off of her only to roll them over, he went willingly, smirking at the view as she pulled her nightgown off of her to bare herself fully.

“You’re still in your underclothes,” she said accusingly.

Trevor’s smirk deepened, and _oh_ , how his smile made her all the wetter. “Doesn’t mean I can’t still keep my promise.”

Sypha shifted forward and Trevor lifted his shoulders, letting her hook her legs beneath them. 

“Oh, come here, already,” Trevor said, his hands gripping her ass and pulling her onto his face.

Sypha gasped, bracing herself against the headboard as Trevor’s tongue slid along her folds, teasing, stroking. “Trevor, you are absolutely— _gah!_ — _awful_ ,” Sypha said, panting. His tongue tasted her entrance before sliding inside her, darting in and out, and teasing around her clit. She bucked against his face and groaned, fingernails biting into the headboard.

His own fingers dug into her backside, nails raking lightly across the skin. Sypha’s knees tightened around his head, and Trevor finally groaned, pushing her up slightly.

“Sorry,” he said, and his mouth glistened from her slickness. “Just—need to breathe a bit.”

Sypha leaned down to kiss him, not at all minding the taste of herself on his lips. “Take as much time as you need,” she murmured against his mouth. “Though… if you want me to return the favour…”

Trevor’s eyebrows shot up and Sypha grinned. She turned around to face his legs and hooked her thumbs under his braies, sliding them down his hips. He was rock-hard when the cloth slid over his dick, and Sypha took him in her hands, slipping her mouth over the head of his shaft.

“ _Syph_ —” Trevor’s fingers dug into her thighs and he pulled her back onto his face, tongue working over her again even as she took him deeper in her mouth.

The bitter saltiness of his precome was hardly the best taste, but Sypha slid down his length, lips and tongue working Trevor’s dick while she tried desperately not to clench her legs around his head from his ministrations. His hips jerked up, pressing him deeper into her mouth, and Sypha let go of his cock with a hand to squeeze his ass, even as she lifted her head to murmur, “ _Behave._ ”

“I _am_ ,” Trevor said, and a sharp slap to his hip drew a hiss from him.

“I said _behave,_ ” Sypha said, and Trevor groaned softly before burying his tongue inside her once more.

Her own tongue teased the head of his dick, licking away the drops that formed at the end before she took him back in her mouth, sinking down and surrounding him fully. Her lips worked his shaft, sucking, tugging, trying to make him come undone before he did as such to her, sitting on his face. 

He’d found her clit again, and his tongue was _amazing_ , working her into a sweat even as a finger, then two, sank into her to drive her further over the edge. He knew her too well, how to tease her, how to make her come undone, and Sypha had to lift her head from his cock as she cried out, no longer trying to stifle the sound as she shuddered on top of him, knees tightening around him in her orgasm.

Trevor’s hands raked lightly over her back, and Sypha realised she was trembling slightly when she turned around to face him again, laying atop his bare chest with his dick hard between her thighs.

“You absolutely made it up to me,” she murmured, and kissed him, her tongue slipping into his mouth and tracing lightly across his teeth. It wasn’t so bad now, with the mixed tastes of herself and him on their lips, and Sypha closed her eyes when Trevor’s tongue slid along her own, the tip just as teasing as she remembered.

“Gonna leave me hanging like that?” Trevor murmured against her mouth, and Sypha sat up a little, grinning down at him. 

“I thought this morning was to make up for your leaving me woefully out of the loop,” Sypha said, raising her eyebrows, and Trevor gave her such a pleading face she almost couldn’t resist.

_Almost._

“I think… you could stand to live like that while you think about what you’ve done,” Sypha said, rolling off him.

“Oh, come on—!”

Sypha turned, planting her hands on her hips, and grinned when Trevor immediately let his hands fall from his hardened cock.

“Later,” she promised, and leaned in to kiss him again, slowly. She drew away, but kept their faces together as she murmured, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Trevor could only groan.

* * *

They found Alucard in the kitchen, rabbit meat sizzling in the pan along with what looked like duck’s eggs. He had a ball of dough rising in a bowl, but when Sypha inquired, he demurred that they’d all eaten the last of the bread and he had to make more.

“Could always wake Lucian,” Trevor pointed out. “She said she’s figured out how to multiply—”

“At my behest,” Alucard said, turning over the meat. “But I think after last night, she needs the sleep.”

“Oh, come on,” Trevor said. “It’s not like you drained her dry, and she said herself—she can heal from your dhampir bullshit.”

Alucard shot him a look and didn’t deign to respond. 

“I heard you had a _very_ lovely time last night,” Sypha chimed in, and Alucard nearly upended the pan’s contents.

He turned to look at the pair of them—Trevor staring very deliberately at the wall, Sypha watching him eagerly—and Alucard sighed.

“You really can’t keep anything to yourself, can you, Belmont?” he muttered, turning back to their breakfast. 

“I can when it’s important,” Trevor protested hotly.

Alucard snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“This is important for _us_ , though,” Sypha said, and Alucard glanced at her. “Multiplying, I mean, not how you sucked her off,” she added, and Alucard could have choked. “I mean, if Lucian can multiply food, that means we just need to be mindful about what we pack the wagon with.”

He couldn’t help but be grateful for her moving onto the easier topic.

“Not exactly; the food is always at the state it was in before,” Alucard said. “We could catch one fish and have her make it four, but not eight or sixteen later and expect it to still be fresh. She can’t keep making more bread and expect it to not go stale.”

“What kind of lame miracles are those?” Trevor said, and sighed when Sypha swatted his arm. “Okay, okay, they’re still miracles, happy?”

“It essentially means we’ll make the money last longer,” Alucard said. “But that’s… about it.”

“God needs to look after His followers better,” Trevor muttered, and Alucard snorted.

“She did call God a bastard,” Alucard reminded him.

Trevor laughed. “Okay, so God needs to _maintain_ His followers better.”

“Or God needs to stop being a bastard to begin with,” Sypha pointed out. “It would make all of humanity’s lives easier.”

Trevor snorted. “Something’s gone horribly wrong if God’s own ordained are calling Him a bastard.”

“Lucian didn’t exactly enter the priesthood willingly,” Alucard said mildly, prodding the pan’s contents.

“I didn’t wha?” Lucian yawned from the doorway, still wearing nothing but her braies, Kerberos clutched in her arms. “Hi?”

* * *

It took a bit of coaxing, but Alucard presented his breakfast to Lucian to multiply, and they ate well, scarfing down the food.

They loosely discussed plans for the day, but it was largely the same as before: Sypha and Alucard would keep looking for ways to seal the castle and hold, and Trevor would continue Lucian’s lessons.

“So what other miracles can you do, baby Jesus?” Trevor asked when they finally headed outside to spar. Kerberos flopped in the shade of a tree nearby, rolling around on the grass before chasing after a moth and barking.

Lucian expanded her spear as she lifted up into the air, drifting around him.

Trevor turned to follow her movement until his back was to the castle, and he held up a hand. “Alright—so you can fly now, you don’t need to show off.”

“Float, but thanks,” Lucian said, beaming.

“Any idea how long you can keep that up for?”

“Not a damn clue.”

“Right,” Trevor said, and unfurled the Morning Star. “Time for our next lesson, then: dodging. Preferably while in midair. You’ve got an advantage nobody else does, so we’re going to put it to good use.”

Lucian eyed the whip’s head and sighed. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” Trevor agreed, and his hand shot forward.


	42. Chapter 42

Trevor was too good with his weapons to actually hit Lucian, but by the time the last of her reserves left her and she fell to the ground, she was tired and achy, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat. 

“Lucian?” Trevor asked when he realised she was struggling to push herself onto all fours.

She held up a hand. “Gimme a mo. Need… need a break.”

“You managed to stay up there longer than I expected,” Trevor said, rolling his shoulders while he watched her hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Really, Trevor,” Alucard said from behind him, and Trevor turned to see the dhampir and Sypha approaching, books in hand. “I thought you were going to go easy on her.”

Lucian used Trevor’s arm to pull herself to her feet, wiping sweat off her forehead with her sleeve. “I’m not going to learn if he does,” she said. She paused. “You called him Trevor.”

“Are you going to point it out every time I do so?” Alucard asked, eyebrow raising.

“Only if it keeps deserving to be pointed out.”

Sypha laughed. “We have some books we think might help, but they’ve suffered water damage,” she said. “I thought maybe you could repair them, but…”

“I could do so once I’ve got some power back,” Lucian said. “How’s the research coming, otherwise?”

“Horribly slowly.”

“I’ve got some questions about the sort of books your family liked to acquire, Trevor,” Sypha said. “First there was the box of penis spells, and now there’s the one about aubergines—”

Trevor laughed, visibly startled. “I’m sorry, did you say penis spells?”

“She was quite scandalised when she found them,” Alucard noted dryly.

“I was not,” Sypha protested, her face pinking.

Lucian snickered. “Sypha, your face is bright red.”

“So is yours.”

“I’ve been sparring,” Lucian said. “I’ve got an excuse.” More sweat dripped down the side of her face, and she wiped it away. “Though speaking of which, I’m in desperate need of a bath.”

Sypha gave her a calculating look. “Would you like me to wash your hair again?” she said, and it did not escape her notice how both men swung to look at her.

Lucian’s cheeks reddened, but she nodded shyly, and Sypha added her stack of books to Alucard’s.

“And we’ll have a hot dinner waiting for us when we return, I hope!” Sypha added over her shoulder as she and Lucian began heading inside.

“Naturally,” Alucard said. “Trevor can be my assistant.”

“Come on, don’t leave me alone with him,” Trevor called halfheartedly after Sypha and Lucian.

Lucian glanced over at Sypha and the two of them giggled.

“C’mon, Kerberos,” Lucian called, and the pug came sprinting across the grass to trot dutifully at her heels.

“I can’t believe you got two months of hot baths whenever you liked,” Sypha said as she and Lucian went upstairs. 

“ _You_ just heat the water with magic,” Lucian pointed out.

Sypha shook her head, grinning sheepishly. “It took years before I mastered that spell,” she said. “Put too much effort into it and you end up with boiling water!”

“That might be a touch too hot, yeah,” Lucian agreed, laughing. “I still can’t believe it either, honestly. I grew up taking sponge baths in the dark while everyone else was asleep so they wouldn’t see me naked.”

Sypha winced. “Suddenly, cold baths in rivers don't seem so bad by comparison.”

Lucian waved a hand. “All in the past now,” she said. She bent briefly to pat Kerberos’ head when they reached the baths. “Go find Trevor and annoy him a little for me, okay sweetie?”

Kerberos barked and trotted off down the hallway, heading in a random direction that definitely wasn’t toward the kitchen.

“Have you figured out how these taps work?” Sypha asked as she turned on the hot water to fill the largest of the basins, which was set in the floor and looked nearly large enough to swim in.

“I asked Alucard once, but I passed out in a fever nap mid-explanation,” Lucian said, grimacing.

“Shame. Though I’m sure he would not mind telling us over dinner,” Sypha said. She watched the tub fill, transfixed for a moment, before beginning to shrug out of her clothes. “Though there was something I hoped to talk about without the boys here.”

Lucian paused with her head still stuck in her tunic. “That being?” she asked slowly, glad Sypha couldn’t see her face just then.

“Trevor told me what happened last night,” Sypha said, sliding into the tub. 

Lucian’s face went beet red as she freed herself from her shirt. “I thought it would work,” she said defensively. “And it did, a little, his scars aren’t so bad now—”

“Oh, I don’t care about the blood drinking,” Sypha said, waving a hand as Lucian climbed in after her, wincing when the hot water stung the brands that wrapped around her body. Sypha twisted to turn off the tap before sliding lower in the water. “Well, aside from missing out on the show,” she added, and gave Lucian a sly smile.

“... _Right_ ,” Lucian squeaked, and a hand went up to her neck to touch the spot where his fangs had pierced her, the skin smooth and unblemished like it had never happened. She still remembered the intensity, much stronger than anything she’d ever felt pleasuring herself, and the thought he might want to do it again sent a tiny thrill through her chest.

Sypha laughed and picked up the bar of soap, dunking it under the water to wet it before scrubbing at her arms. “I heard it got rather heated.”

Lucian splashed water at Sypha. “You’re an awful gossip, you know that?”

“I’m a Speaker, we swap stories,” Sypha said. Her face became a little more serious, though. “You were raised in a church, and I just wanted to make sure you knew about some things you… might not.”

“...Like what?” Lucian said slowly, scooping water into her hands and rinsing the sweat from her face.

“Like if you know how babies are made.”

Lucian nearly opened her mouth to say of course, only to decide the opportunity was too good to pass up, and she immediately changed tack. “Yeah, sometimes after it rains, you’ll find them growing under a cabbage leaf in the gardens.” It was a struggle to keep a straight face as she spoke.

Her valiant attempt was ruined by Sypha’s stunned expression, and Lucian threw her head back, howling with laughter. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face!”

“You are _awful_ ,” Sypha informed her. 

Lucian snickered and dunked her head under the water, and when she came back up, Sypha pointed the bar of soap at her. Lucian obligingly slid over the underwater bench to sit next to her, and Sypha began lathering her hair. 

“God, that feels amazing,” Lucian murmured, closing her eyes.

“So,” Sypha said, “you _do_ know how—”

“I know about sex, Sypha,” Lucian said. Her eyes widened slightly. “You don’t think we’ll—?’

“When the two of you have had time to heal? I would be more surprised if you didn’t,” Sypha said frankly.

Lucian swallowed back the sudden nervous lump in her throat. “It might be… sooner than that,” she said, remembering their conversation. “Alucard… wants to take back that control. If that makes sense?”

“It does,” Sypha said slowly, “but what about what _you_ want?”

“Well, hopefully not to die a virgin _again_ ,” Lucian muttered under her breath. She sighed, her shoulders slumping, and she let Sypha’s fingers work the sweat out of her hair. “I mean, this is fine, and the, uh, blood drinking was _definitely_ fine, but I… don’t like being on my back, much. It’s too…” She shuddered.

“And I suppose Alucard would feel the same,” Sypha said. She let her hands fall. “You’re done.”

Lucian nodded and dunked her head under the water to rinse out the suds. “Your turn?” she asked when she came back up.

“ _Please._ ” 

Lucian started on Sypha’s hair, thinking. “It… _might_ just be pinning him down,” she said slowly. “I did kind of wake up on his chest this morning. He just told me to go back to sleep.”

“It’s still something to talk to him about when you two decide you’re ready,” Sypha said, though Lucian could hear the note of amusement in her voice. “But… just so you know, we Speakers have collected knowledge on how to induce a miscarriage if necessary—I haven’t had to yet, but—”

“I can’t get pregnant.”

Sypha tilted her head back to look up at Lucian, eyebrows raised in an obvious question. “You sound very certain of this.”

“Alucard tested my blood, while you were gone,” she said. “Apparently there’s something in it that means I was supposed to be male, it’s why I didn’t have a proper growth spurt. Which, uh.” Her brow furrowed as a thought occurred to her. “I was a man raised as a girl raised as a boy?”

Sypha laughed, tilting her head down again. “The longer we’re friends, the more you just manage to surprise me. But…” She caught one of Lucian’s hands on her head and pulled it down, pressing the back of it to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be,” Lucian said quickly. “It’s kind of a relief, actually—apparently it’s why I never had my monthlies, which could have been difficult to hide. You’re done,” she added, and Sypha rinsed the suds out of her hair while Lucian relaxed on the bench beside her. 

“As long as you’re not upset, then I won’t be, either,” Sypha said. 

Lucian slowly leaned over until her head was laid on Sypha’s shoulder. Between the hot water and Sypha’s presence, she could feel herself finally starting to relax. Her world narrowed until it was just the two of them and the water, and Lucian realised—

It was because she felt safe.

Sypha pressed a kiss to the corner of her temple. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while yet, I don’t think,” she murmured. “We could stay in here a little longer, if you’d like.”

“Yeah,” Lucian said, pressing a little closer to her side. “I would.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not long now before they'll be leaving the castle... ;)


	43. Chapter 43

It wasn’t until after dinner that Lucian was able to muster up the barest of her energy to mend the books Sypha and Alucard had found, but once the pages were restored to a readable state, she begged off to go look for Kerberos, who had disappeared somewhere into the depths of the castle when she shooed him off for bath time.

She’d gotten used to the feel of magic that radiated from the undead pug, and Lucian followed her gut, getting turned around a few times before realising she was heading back to the forgemaster's old chambers.

She paused, heart in her throat as the images of liquifying corpses flashed through her mind again. She’d told Trevor a long time ago she wasn’t afraid of the dead, but that sight was not one she would forget any time soon.

That, combined with the overwhelming sensation of dark, evil magics had left her feeling overwhelmed, panicked, and she’d needed to go outside to calm down while Alucard and _they_ burned the bodies out.

Now, though the acrid tang of smoke faintly lingered from the soot that scorched the walls, she could _still_ sense it here. Lucian forced herself to go to the door that led to the forging room and paused, bracing a hand on the doorway and closing her eyes, telling herself that it was fine.

_It was fine._

She wondered if the overwhelming sense was what she’d followed rather than Kerberos, which would make sense that they carried the same magic.

Same magic. Here it felt like Kerberos, just stronger.

The thought helped ease some of the tension in her stomach and Lucian let out a slow breath, opening her eyes when she heard a faint whimpering.

“Kerberos?” she called, though she summoned a ball of radiance to her hand and reached for the collapsed spear in her belt. Just in case.

The pug trotted out from behind the altar, looking up at her sadly. Lucian crouched on the floor and held out a hand, sending the light up to hover by her shoulder instead. Kerberos approached and gently took her sleeve in his teeth, tugging her toward the altar. 

Lucian was forced into a half crouch to follow, and Kerberos let go when they reached the massive slab of stone, paws scrabbling against it.

“You miss your master, don’t you?” Lucian said softly. “You know he was working with Dracula to kill everyone, right?”

Kerberos just turned his head to look at her. Then at the altar. Then at her again. He whined piteously, and Lucian stood up, inhaling sharply when she got a good look at what was on its surface.

Most of the tools that had been laid out were reduced to piles of ash, but a wicked-looking warhammer covered in soot remained intact. Lucian looked down at Kerberos, who whined again.

“...You’re not going to do anything if I get this down for you, are you?” Lucian asked slowly. Kerberos just sat on his haunches, watching her hopefully.

“I’m being stupid,” Lucian muttered. “This thing _probably_ weighs more than you do. Just a bit. Alright, fine.” She stretched out a hand, wincing at the sting of dark magic, and wrapped her hand around the shaft, cold to the touch and gritty from the soot. It was even heavier than she’d estimated, but she hefted it off the altar and set it on the floor. 

Kerberos sniffed it and began scrabbling at the head to reveal a gleaming coin stamped with a symbol Lucian recognised from Alucard’s books as an ankh—the Egyptian symbol for life.

“What’s that doing on something in a forgemaster’s chamber?” she asked Kerberos, who sniffed the coin again and rested his chin on the hammer sadly. 

The coin nearly buzzed under her fingertips, and Lucian jerked her hand back. It wasn’t the hammer she’d been sensing—it was _this._

“If he ever comes back for you, he’ll be looking for this, won’t he?” Lucian said. Kerberos’ tail thumped slowly against her leg.

Lucian pulled the spear from her belt and, trusting that the magic weapon wouldn’t break so easily, used the tip to start prising the coin loose. It was embedded quite firmly in the steel, and Lucian swore up a storm as she struggled to work it free.

It finally did, flying out unexpectedly to clatter on the floor. Kerberos’ head shot up and he darted over, grabbing the coin in his teeth and spinning in a circle, tail wagging fiercely. Lucian turned the hammer over to examine the side protected from the fire and groaned when she saw a second, slightly smaller coin, stamped with a five-pointed insignia she didn’t recognise.

Another round of swearing later and the second coin was free, leaving Kerberos curled contentedly on her lap, paws tucked protectively over the coins. 

“I should destroy those things,” Lucian murmured, rubbing Kerberos’ back. “So he can’t get his hands on them again… whatever they are. Tools?”

Kerberos, of course, didn’t answer, instead yawning and flopping over so his belly was exposed. Lucian scratched right in that spot she knew he liked, and his leg began kicking, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“But they make you happy, don’t they?” Lucian said quietly. “And if they’re tools, if I got rid of them… would that kill you, too?”

She didn’t have the heart. Or the answers. 

A cold chill settled in her stomach and Lucian realised what might.

“Come on, boy,” Lucian said, and when she tucked the coins into her belt pouch, Kerberos whined until she let him sniff, content that they were still there.

Kerberos followed her, tail wagging, back downstairs—where they ran into Trevor.

“Where were you?” he asked, glancing down at Kerberos and frowning. “We were worried about you.”

“Just looking for Kerberos,” Lucian said, planting her hands on her hips and making sure to cover her belt pouch with the motion. “How’s the research coming?”

“Slowly, but I think they’re getting somewhere,” Trevor said. “Sypha and Alucard keep tossing words back and forth that I couldn’t make heads nor tails of, so I came looking for you.”

“Ah.” Something fluttered in her chest, and she looked away. “I was actually going to the hold to do some research of my own.”

Trevor’s eyebrows flew up at that. “Are you sure?” he asked. At her stubborn nod, he sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Want some company?”

Lucian swallowed, but shook her head. “Honestly… I think this is something I need to do alone.”

Trevor lifted his hands, slowly enough to not startle her, and put them on her shoulders. “If you’re certain,” he said, watching her intently.

Lucian pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping back, face reddening. “I am,” she said, even though she wasn’t. “I’ll be fine.” Definitely a lie.

Trevor didn’t believe her for a second, but he nodded, staring after her as she and that blasted dog hurried away.

He realised after a second he hadn’t moved; he sighed, and went back down to the kitchen to find Sypha and Alucard with their heads together, bent over the same tome.

“Am I interrupting something?” he said dryly, and they both jumped, turning to look at him.

“I think I found the solution we’ve been looking for,” Sypha said excitedly, grabbing the book off the table and taking it to Trevor.

He took one look at the page, covered in strange runes and writing in a language he didn’t recognise, and just gave her a flat look. “You know I don’t speak… whatever that is.”

“Khazar,” Sypha said.

“It’s been dead nearly two centuries,” Alucard added helpfully.

“Oh, sorry, my mistake,” Trevor said, stepping past Sypha and letting his fingers brush over her back as he did so. He sprawled in a vacant chair and crossed his arms. “I should have concerned myself with learning a language nobody speaks anymore instead of worrying about surviving.”

“The sarcasm is neither necessary, nor appreciated,” Alucard said, taking the book back from Sypha and setting it on the table.

“Just part of my charming personality,” Trevor said, smirking when he saw pink creep into Alucard’s cheeks. “But that’s why you fell for me in the first place, isn’t it?”

“Belmont, I _will_ rip your throat out.”

Trevor lifted his chin and pulled his collar out of the way. “Go right ahead—Lucian seemed to like it.”

Alucard hissed at him. "Prick."

"Arsehole."

“You two are impossible,” Sypha said, putting a hand over the book. “Trevor, please do not antagonise my study partner. You two can go punch each other or kiss or both when we’re done here.” 

_That_ seemed to shut them up, and Alucard sat back, muttering something under his breath before going silent.

“Did you find Lucian?” Sypha asked Trevor, grinning to herself when she caught him staring at Alucard. 

“Huh? Oh—yeah,” Trevor said, sitting up a little straighter. “Still with that stupid dog. I swear that thing is spying on us.”

“Trevor, it’s a _dog_ ,” Sypha said. “A very small and well-behaved one, at that. Even if its appearance is unnerving.”

“It _is_ also an undead creature summoned by one of my father’s servants hell-bent on the destruction of humanity, who was likely the cause of her family’s death,” Alucard said. 

An uncomfortable silence fell around the table.

“Shit,” Trevor finally said.

Sypha looked down at the book in front of her and ran a finger over the pages. “I’m sure she’s figured that out by now,” she said at last. “Trevor, if you want to help us—start planning for our journey. I think we’ll be ready to leave by the end of the week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After realising I made a mistake with the castle layout, I'll be going back through previous chapters to update that Hector's room was not in the dungeons after all. This will be corrected in the future if need be as well!


	44. Chapter 44

The Belmont Hold was dark, quiet save for the soft panting of Kerberos at her side. Lucian avoided the shelves where she died, though her heart stuttered whenever she slowly glanced in that direction. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, leaving her feeling nauseated.

God, she was going to need a smoke after this. Assuming she could find her damn pipe, which seemed to have vanished ages ago.

The index noted all sorts of books on forgemasters and their arts, but only a handful were written in any languages she understood. Still, it was a start, and she nipped between the shelves, going on foot so Kerberos could stay near her. He seemed determined to not leave her side now that she had his master’s old coins.

She collected the books and brought them back to the table, and when she sat down, Kerberos whined at her feet until she let him perch on her lap to curl up over the belt pouch.

Lucian read. And read. The tomes were dense, and several times she had to go back over the same paragraph multiple times just to make sure she understood.

And frankly, the things she read were _not_ good for her sanity as the night went on longer and longer. Pulling a soul from the depths of Hell and using it to power a corpse, transforming it into a nightmarish beast of the forgemaster’s design…

Lucian glanced down at Kerberos, still curled contentedly in her lap. “You weren’t down in doggie Hell, were you?” she asked skeptically. “Or are the rules different for animals?”

Kerberos’s tail thumped against her leg.

“Okay, fine, I’m reading,” Lucian said, turning back to the book. “Don’t nag.”

Killing a forgemaster would not destroy their creations, merely set them free of their will. Night creatures weren’t all the creation of forgemasters, either, but sometimes merely the product of nature or freak magical accidents. And a forgeblade was an essential tool for their work, though blade was a misnomer; it could be almost anything, from a knife to a club to a seam ripper.

Lucian looked down at her lap. “Or coins?” she murmured. What could have happened to separate a forgemaster from his weapon, though?

And why hadn’t he come for it over the course of two months?

It made sense why Kerberos was so attached to the coins, though—they’d been used to create him. And if Kerberos still felt loyalty to the coins, that meant… 

At least one of the people responsible for her family’s deaths was still alive. Possibly two; the forgemaster she’d seen in the battle for the castle used a dagger, not a hammer, and there’d been no sign of him in the aftermath—and his particular stench of dark magic was different from Kerberos'.

In that instant, Lucian’s mind was made up. She’d not been planning on abandoning Kerberos in the castle again when they’d left, but now she was determined to take him with her. She didn’t want him back under his old master’s control.

“And I think wherever the coins go, you’ll want to go, too, won’t you,” she said, and yawned before sitting up a bit straighter, trying to force herself to focus. She still hadn’t found mention of what destroying a forgemaster’s weapon would do to their creations. 

Her head drooped to her chest.

Lucian walked along the shelves of the hold. There were no torches, no electric lamps, the only light coming from a ball of luminance in her hand. She rounded a corner and screamed, the light going out as she fell to her knees.

Her own body lay between the shelves, bleeding from beneath the silver cables that pinned her to the floor. Multiple stab wounds covered her chest, and Lucian was horrifyingly aware that she was kneeling in a cold puddle of her own blood.

“It’s okay,” Alucard’s voice said softly, and she looked up to see him and Trevor and Sypha standing over her.

“This will all be over soon,” Sypha said, and she and Alucard pushed Lucian the rest of the way to the floor, pinning her down. 

“We’ll try to make this quick,” Trevor said, but it wasn’t his voice but rather _his_ , and Trevor raised a knife. “Lucian?” he suddenly said in his own voice, and Lucian’s head shot up off the book where she’d fallen asleep.

She was hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face, and Trevor knelt on the floor in front of her, hands gripping her arms before she threw him off, nearly tipping backwards off the chair from the force before he caught her and quickly let go again.

“Lucian, it’s nearly midday, you’ve been down here for ages,” he said, his voice low. “You’re in the hold, that dog is on the floor by your feet, you’ve got a book in front of you. Listen to my voice, alright? You’re safe.”

Lucian doubled over, hugging herself as she struggled to breathe. She only caught snatches of Trevor’s words, but it was his voice and not _his_ , and even as the hold seemed to shrink around her, trapping her like she’d have to claw her way out of it, she followed Trevor’s voice like a lifeline.

“Trevor?” she gasped.

“I’m here, Lucian, I’m right here next to you. The others were worried, Alucard’s in a state even though he’ll deny it. I swear he was ready to rip the table in half when Sypha said to let me look for you on my own.”

“Is he—mad?” Lucian said haltingly.

Trevor laughed quietly, though there was no humour in it. “Not at you, no. You coming back to me?”

“Th-think… so?” Lucian managed to suck down a deep breath and shudderingly let it out again. “Trevor, you s-stabbed me, you and Sypha and him and—and—” She shoved a knuckle into her mouth, biting down on it. A small whine escaped her.

A small paw pressed down on her foot, and Trevor sighed. “Here, pet the dog, that always helped Sonia,” he muttered, and plopped Kerberos in Lucian’s lap. 

The pug licked her cheeks and yipped at her, and Lucian wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Good… good dog,” she whispered, and he barked by her ear in approval.

“You aren’t gonna fall backwards if I touch you again, are you?” Trevor asked, and Lucian shook her head.

Trevor leaned forward and tentatively wrapped his arms around her, careful not to squash Kerberos. “And I thought sleeping under trees was bad enough,” he said, and Lucian chuckled weakly. “What were you reading?”

“Er…” Lucian glanced at the book and grimaced, closing it. “About forgemasters.”

“Fuck,” Trevor said, holding her at arm’s length. “That can’t have done you any favours, reading that shit before bed. C’mon,” he said, standing up. “You need a smoke.”

“I lost my pipe,” Lucian mumbled, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

There was a very long pause before she heard a snort from Trevor. “Fuck, between all the shit that was happening, Sypha and I must’ve forgotten—we’ve got it.”

Lucian nearly facepalmed, though she did grimace. “I left it in the wagon, didn’t I?”

“I don’t think so. Not exactly, anyway.” Trevor paused. “Before you showed up in Lindenfeld that night, were you ever at a Speaker camp?”

Lucian’s eyes went huge. “Oh _shit._ ”

“Sypha’s got your pipe.” Trevor pulled Lucian to her feet, and she kept Kerberos clutched in her arms. “C’mon, easy there.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep down here,” Lucian murmured. 

“Yeah, Alucard mentioned you’d keep passing out in libraries,” Trevor said offhandedly. “It’s why I said I’d come look for you here. Didn’t think it’d be great if he came looking himself.”

Lucian’s stomach lurched and she nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, and hid her face against Kerberos. “Not great for either of us.”

* * *

Sypha found the pipe among their things, and Lucian hastily tamped down some added pipe-weed from her belt pouch, and relit it, still barely charred after her bilocation episode. She sat on the front steps of the castle, relaxing against one of the massive double doors while the other three reconvened inside.

“Right, that’s the panicky priest taken care of,” Trevor said, pushing his hair out of his face. “What are you guys going to need?”

“How good are you at drawing?” Sypha asked, and Trevor frowned. 

“Drawing what, exactly?”

“We’ll need exact copies of these runes at every possible entrance to the castle,” Alucard said, handing Trevor the book so he could see. “There are other components to the spell, of course, but this should be a simple enough task even your tiny brain could handle it.”

“Like how your tiny ego can’t handle me being competent in any way shape or form, I’m sure,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes and taking the book. He scanned through the pages and nodded. “Yeah, looks easy enough.”

“I did say _every_ entrance,” Alucard said. “Which includes windows.”

“And fireplaces, I presume,” Trevor said, and was rewarded with the faintest contortions of Alucard’s face. “What’s the matter, forgot about those points of entry, too?”

“Kindly go to the observatory tower and throw yourself off of it.”

“Maybe later,” Trevor said cheerfully. “Dumbass.”

“Boys—” Sypha began.

“How original,” Alucard drawled. “Resorting to such unimaginative insults for lack of a better retort? You disappoint me.”

“So you’ve come to expect better?” I knew there was a reason you liked me.” Trevor smirked as Alucard stalked closer, grabbing him by the collar. “What are you gonna do, kiss me to shut me up?”

“Is that a taunt, or an invitation, Belmont?” Alucard hissed.

Trevor’s gaze dropped to Alucard’s mouth before he glanced back up at him. “What do you fucking think?”

Alucard slammed him back against the wall, Trevor letting the book slip out of his hands to land by his feet. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Trevor leaned in to kiss him.

Alucard stiffened briefly, then a hand went to Trevor’s hair, shoving his head back against the wall and bearing down on his mouth. Trevor’s heart hammered in his chest and he was certain Alucard could feel it, but the dhampir redoubled his efforts, their hips pressed together and Trevor pressed against the wall.

This kiss wasn’t the gentle one Alucard had shared with Lucian. It was harsh, demanding, and God, Trevor even smelled good for a change, a bit musky but otherwise clean, and Alucard brought his other hand up from Trevor’s shoulder to his chin, gripping it and angling it upwards to better kiss him. 

Trevor’s hands knotted in Alucard’s hair, pulling him down even closer to his face, and when they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, staring at each other.

“Well,” Sypha said, breaking the tension, and Alucard whirled, Trevor staring at her over Alucard’s shoulder. She grinned broadly. “It took you two long enough.”

Trevor shoved Alucard away from him and snatched the book up, flipping back to the spot he’d lost. “Sypha, after all the times you’ve told me about kissing the priest getting high outside, you are in _no_ place to talk,” he said, staring intently down at the book. “Oh, _piss_ off, Alucard.”

Alucard wiped his mouth off on his elbow. “I could say much the same to you. Get to work. Sypha and I have other parts of the spell to prepare for and they’d be far too much for you to handle.”

Trevor spared a glance up, unable to resist throwing one last barb at the dhampir. “Don’t let thinking about me distract you too much.”

“Oh, please,” Alucard said dismissively. “I barely think of you at all.”

But Trevor could hear Sypha giggling as she and Alucard vanished to the kitchen to check their resources, and he leaned against the wall, unable to hide the grin as he studied the runes in the book.

Fuck him if that hadn’t been hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just say: enjoy. ;)

As if by unspoken agreement, Lucian ended up in Alucard’s bed again over the next few nights. 

The others had told her about his and Trevor’s kiss, and she had of course been indignant to have missed it—but then Alucard kissed her breathless later that night, and she had to admit, there were worse things in life.

The next few days settled into a somewhat uneasy routine at the castle—making breakfast, checking on the horses, returning to preparing the sealing spells to lock the castle and the hold away from the world, breaking only for lunch and dinner. Soft passing touches between the four of them, none of them quite certain how else to address the matter growing between them.

Sharing a bed always started with Lucian and Alucard as far apart as possible, fingers barely touching, but whenever Alucard woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat to see her whimpering, curled up against his side, or Lucian jolted awake and found him pressed against her chest and twitching, they would wake the other from their nightmare and cuddle until drifting into an uneasy sleep once more.

It was hardly ideal, but it worked for them well enough.

“Is it always _them_ you see?” Lucian whispered one night, her face pressed against the crook of Alucard’s neck. “Because I… I think I see the three of you nearly as much.”

Alucard was silent for a moment, his fingers trailing down her spine to settle at the small of her back. “Sometimes it’s you three as well,” he said at long last. 

“God,” Lucian muttered, her arms tightening around him until he tapped sharply on her arm to warn her to let go. She did so, rolling off him and curling into the foetal position, facing away. “Even after they’re gone we’re still fucked up.”

Alucard sighed, turning to rest his back against hers, hand curling under his pillow. “You mean to say we weren’t before?”

“Not this much,” Lucian muttered. “Not really.”

Alucard curled in on himself, craving her touch again, hating how he did so. He forced himself to roll over and carefully draped an arm over Lucian’s waist, tucking their bodies together, trying not to think about how much he wanted to cringe away from her. He had to get used to this again, and avoiding it wasn’t going to help.

But Lucian must have felt how he was beginning to tremble again behind her, because she twisted around to look over her shoulder at him, biting her lip. “You don’t seem okay.”

Alucard hid his face against her shoulder, forcing him to slow his breathing until the shaking stopped. “It’s fine,” he said at long last. 

“...If you’re sure.”

He hated the doubt in her voice, even if he knew she was right to not trust his word.

Alucard’s fingers dug into her hip until she turned back over to look at him, and he pulled her closer into a kiss.

Lucian returned it tentatively, her breath catching when Alucard hitched a leg over her hip. She wanted to forget, _he_ wanted to forget, both of them too scared to try—both longing and desperate.

His hand slid up her leg beneath her nightgown, cupping her backside, and Lucian’s breath hitched.

“S-Sypha said we should talk about this,” she stuttered, and his hand paused. “Before we…” 

“Realistically—we’re not going to, are we?” he murmured, and Lucian sat up, tugging him onto her lap.

“We’re not.”

She showered his face with kisses, wiping away his tears. His hands hitched under her nightshirt and pulled it over her head, flinging it aside before pressing her against the headboard. The cool wood against her back made Lucian gasp, and she wrapped her legs around Alucard’s waist, only to loosen them a moment later so he could divest himself of his own nightshirt before catching her shoulders again. His cock pressed between them, already hard, and Lucian pulled them together again with her legs.

This was fine, this was—wonderful. And desperate. Her hands raked across his back, and Lucian yelped at the sensation of Alucard’s talons elongating to scratch over her shoulders, the cuts healing almost immediately.

“Sorry!” He drew away from her at once, willing his nails to recede. “Lucian, I am so sorry—”

“It was an accident,” Lucian said, and then glanced away briefly before looking back at him. “Besides, I… kind of liked it, actually.”

Alucard carefully touched her face, trailing his fingers over her jaw. “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Regular nails, then?” 

He paused before dropping his hand to her chest, raking lightly across her sternum. Lucian arced into the touch, head falling against the board with a soft groan. 

“Just—tell me what you want?” she said when his nails left her skin. “I’ve never done this before, so…”

Alucard drew away from her, and for a moment Lucian thought she’d upset him—but then he sat back on the bed, motioning for her to join him. “Just—sit on my lap,” he said, pausing for only the barest of moments before he added, “backwards.”

Heat went straight to Lucian’s face—and between her legs—and she hurried to do as he asked, the two of them taking some time before she was settled not quite on his lap, but rather between his thighs, and his hands ran over her chest.

They could work with this. 

His nails scraped over her chest, and Lucian could feel his breath on her neck as he pressed a kiss just beneath her hair. 

“You smell… so good,” Alucard murmured, and he felt Lucian shiver against him.

“Bite me, then,” she said breathlessly. “I mean, this might be your last chance for virgin blood.”

He needed no further invitation and sank his fangs into her neck. Lucian threw her head back against his shoulder, moaning much more loudly than the first night they’d done this, and Alucard wrapped the hand that wasn’t holding her head steady around her waist, fingers trailing over her ribs. 

He drank, enjoying every little shudder she gave beneath him, the feeling of her heart pounding under his hand whenever he brushed it over her chest. Not so much as the barest hint of breast, though she still groaned whenever his fingers brushed over a nipple—small, but sensitive enough to peak slightly at his touch.

Her blood was just as sweet and hot as the first time, and Alucard savoured the sting of it, muffling his small exclamations of pleasure against her neck. He could have kept drinking forever, but managed to keep his composure—especially when he felt Lucian rock against him, her entire body shivering as she cried out, and it occurred to him that last time hadn’t just been her getting tired. He hastily withdrew his fangs and licked away the last drops of blood, watching Lucian to see her coming down from her orgasm, feeling her quiver on top of him.

She slumped against his chest, panting, and his hands trailed over her ribs and hips and stomach, avoiding the dark patch of hair between her legs for the time being. Lucian still shivered against him, pressing backwards before he pushed back, keeping them upright.

But this was nothing like last time. This was Lucian—and moreso than that, he needed to reassure himself that he wouldn’t just give himself over to whoever asked.

_He’d_ initiated this time, and he was damn well going to see it through. He needed this.

He needed _her._

“ _Wow_ ,” Lucian gasped. “I—Alucard, if you don’t want to keep going—”

“I do,” he said quickly, his hands sliding down to her thighs, teasingly just low enough to tell her what he wanted. “But if you don’t—”

Lucian turned, perching on his lap and wrapping her legs around his waist. Alucard was painfully aware of how his cock slid against her—already wet and ready.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Alucard groaned at her touch.

She pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, only to draw back almost immediately, stifling a quiet sob as their foreheads pressed together.

“Lucian?” he asked carefully, caressing the back of her head.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered, and when he drew back to give her a skeptical look, she elaborated. “It’s just… so good.”

Alucard’s hands trailed down her back again, settling at her hips, where he squeezed. Hard enough to bruise, and Lucian pressed closer to him, even as she could feel the marks already healing.

“You really like that?” Alucard said, hating the urgency in his voice. “The pain?”

Lucian pressed a kiss to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, to his lips, where the taste of her blood lingered. “It… makes everything else feel sharper,” she said at last. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

Alucard kissed her again, and this time he let his tongue trace a path along her lower lip before slipping inside her mouth. Lucian groaned against him and her lips parted further, letting him explore her with his tongue. She tentatively returned the gesture, only to gasp when she encountered his fangs.

“Sorry,” Lucian murmured, drawing back slightly. “I don’t mind them, it’s just different.”

“Take your time.”

She did, kissing him carefully, her tongue slowly easing between his fangs when he let her in, and her hands tangled in his hair, soft and tentative like she was afraid to hurt him. She never could—but he wouldn’t tell her that. Not yet, anyway; he appreciated the gentleness. 

Close and warm and intimate, with her perched on his lap, neither of them wanting to lay down. Lucian’s hands roamed over his chest and he shivered at her touch; she paused, but he pulled away from her mouth to reassure her to keep going.

Lucian’s hands trailed over him, careful to avoid the scars, he noticed. “It’s… kind of funny,” she said, her voice low. “But I’ve been imagining what this would be like for… far too long.”

“The pair of us, alone in the dark, trying to forget nightmares?” Alucard said dryly, and he loved how Lucian laughed against his chest.

“ _Touching_ you,” she said. “You’re beautiful.”

He knew he was attractive, he’d be blind not to—but hearing it come from her made something warm bloom in his chest, and he hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Lucian kissed the side of his head, wrapping her arms around him as well. They sat together for a moment that seemed to stretch out for eternity before Lucian drew back, feeling him tremble under her.

“Alucard?”

He kissed her again, once, desperately, before he ran his hands down her hips to settle at her thighs. “Lucian, _please_ —”

She lifted herself up off his lap enough to feel his erection pressed between her legs, where she ached for it—and even though she knew what it _should_ feel like, she still gasped as she carefully slid down on him, free of pain to her surprise, and Alucard’s fingers dug into her back.

They paused for a moment, Lucian’s breath coming shallowly when she realised she didn’t know what to do beyond that.

“Alucard, I’ve never—?”

“You’re,” he said, and his own breathing was ragged. “Supposed to move. On me.”

Lucian braced herself on his shoulders, studying his face as his eyes fluttered shut. She began to rock, carefully at first, then picking up speed a little when Alucard reassured her she was doing well. 

He jerked involuntarily when he felt her knees tighten on his thighs, the thrust of her hips and soft panting leaving him wishing she could push him onto his back and fuck him senseless—knowing that right then, it would be a bad idea for both of them. So he bucked into her as best he could, not sure it was doing much for her, but she whimpered softly, her lips brushing against his shoulder, and he imagined it must be alright.

Lucian let go of him with her mouth to kiss him, her movements slowing when they accidentally knocked teeth. “You feel really nice,” she whispered, and Alucard came undone at that, clutching at Lucian’s thighs while he thrust up into her as best he could, his release leaving him trembling, gasping for breath as he shuddered beneath her. 

“That… that was,” he stammered, nudging her to get off of him, and Lucian’s eyes widened briefly before she did so, his dick slipping out of her to both their disappointment.

“...Not what I was expecting,” Lucian admitted when Alucard gathered her in his arms, tugging them both sideways so he was tucked against her back once more. “But it was… really nice.”

“I think I said much the same about our first kiss,” Alucard said, his face pressed against her shoulder, and he felt Lucian shake with laughter under his arm. “We really need to find a better word for it.”

“I mean, it _was_ nice,” Lucian said, her breath hitching when Alucard’s arm found its way over her hip, fingers brushing carefully over the patch of hair between her legs. “I… I really liked it. Um.” She ducked her head, letting out an embarrassed sigh. “I’d… also... like to do that again sometime.”

She shivered when Alucard kissed the back of her neck. “It’s supposed to get better with practice,” he murmured.

“...Safe to say I think we’re both pretty unpracticed.” Lucian rolled over, and Alucard shifted so one of her knees was loosely tucked between his legs. “But… I’d kind of like to change that with you?”

“Assuming Sypha and Trevor don’t get to us first,” Alucard murmured, and despite herself, Lucian giggled nervously, shifting her own body so they were right up against each other, pressed front to front.

“Okay, yes,” she said, leaving a tiny, lingering kiss on the tip of his sharp nose. “But otherwise?”

She felt one of Alucard’s hands trail over her ear and down to the crook of her neck, where it settled. “I’d like that, too.”

They drifted off like that, foreheads together, but when Lucian awoke later that day, she found herself secure in Alucard’s arms—where she stayed for a while, until it became too much for her. 

But while it lasted, it was good. 

She got dressed for the day and kissed his temple. “Love you,” she whispered, and vanished out the door.

Alucard turned over in his sleep, tugging the pillow that smelled like her closer towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sits back with popcorn*


	46. Chapter 46

Sypha’s prediction that they would be ready to leave by the end of the week came true. Trevor was joined by Lucian in drawing the runes around every possible entrance to the castle while Alucard moved the portraits from the stairwell into the hold proper in preparation for sealing it off. Sypha, naturally, would be the one casting it, and she spent her time trailing after Lucian and Trevor from room to room, chanting the same spell as they finished each set of runes.

It took hours. Alucard joined them as soon as his own task was done, but even with the three of them working together and trying to use Alucard’s knowledge of the castle—incomplete in and of itself—the work was tedious, slow. 

Trevor tried singing drinking songs to pass the time until Sypha curtly told him she couldn’t concentrate on her spells, and they fell silent again after that. 

It was torture for Lucian, the boredom pressing down on her and becoming unbearable. Her tics started getting worse, from raking her hands together as they moved between rooms, to jittering her foot whenever she knelt to draw runes on a windowsill, to hissing through her teeth, loudly and frequently enough Sypha snapped at her to leave if she was going to be disruptive.

So Lucian set her charcoal on the windowsill, hands shaking, and fled from the room. She ducked into a side chamber and slid against the wall, hiding her face against her knees.

Kerberos darted after her, still unwilling to leave her side with the coins in her belt pouch, and Lucian tugged him against her chest, crying in great, heaving gasps that left her trembling.

“I don’t—I don’t know why,” she mumbled against Kerberos’ fur. “I try to help and it’s like I—I—can’t. Rosi, I wanted to be useful and all I did was make her mad.”

Kerberos whined on her lap, and Lucian hugged him carefully, hands running over his back—like if she pet him enough she could forget.

“There’s something wrong with me,” Lucian whispered. “I don’t know what, but there just _is._ I _hate_ it.”

She relaxed only slightly when the pug’s tongue licked away the tears on her cheeks, and Lucian kissed the top of his head, fresh tears coming in again. 

“I got hit a lot for not being able to pay attention to lessons, you know?” Lucian said as Kerberos wriggled away from her. She let him go and curled up again, resting her chin on her knees. “Whenever Father Codruț noticed I wasn’t listening, he’d make me kneel in the corner on a broomstick while he beat me with a switch.” She dug her fingers into her shins, nails biting through her breeches. “And I know Sypha wouldn’t do that but she was so mad, and—Rosi— _Kerberos_ —I don’t know how to stop it.”

The pug was too concerned with licking his crotch to care.

Lucian sighed and let her head fall against the wall behind her, before lifting it and slamming it back again, the pain spreading through her skull before it was healed away.

“You get it, don’t you?” she asked, not looking down at the undead dog by her feet. “Feeling like you don’t belong? I keep thinking if I could just be _better_ , then I wouldn’t have to prove myself to them so much.”

She stared at the far wall, tears streaming down her cheeks freely. “They’re all so amazing,” she whispered, even though she was sure Kerberos had stopped listening, content to scratch his ear with his foot. “And I’m just— _me_. I can’t fight monsters, I can’t speak fifty languages, I can’t get thrown through six walls of solid stone and come up standing. And—and the one thing I thought I could help with, drawing out these runes? I managed to fuck even _that_ up, too, because I can’t seem to make myself care about our most important task at the moment—!”

Lucian sucked down a deep breath, and she fumbled in her belt pouch for her pipe and weed.

She tamped it down, ignited it with an intense burst of radiance from her finger, and inhaled, letting the smoke fill her lungs before expelling it.

Fucking useless mess, she was.

“Lucian?”

Sypha was in the doorway, biting her lip. Lucian hurriedly pressed her thumb against the lit pipe weed, ignoring the burn when she pulled away to let it heal. Trevor stood behind the Speaker, arms crossed loosely in front of him, Alucard hovering by his shoulder. Sypha came to sit next to Lucian.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said gently. “I’m sorry.”

Lucian wiped her eyes on her sleeve, mortified that Sypha had to see her like this. “I was being annoying,” she said, hating how her voice broke. “I’d have been mad at me, too.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Sypha said gently, putting a hand on Lucian’s shoulder. “I was stressed, but you didn’t deserve that.”

She kissed Lucian, cradling the priest’s face between her hands, brushing away Lucian’s tears with her thumbs.

“Sypha, I’m sorry,” Lucain whispered when Sypha pulled away. “I wasn’t trying to distract you, I swear.”

“I know you weren’t,” Sypha said. “Please come back to help us?”

“...Yeah.” Lucian sniffled again, and though she stood up, taking Sypha’s hand, letting Trevor’s brush over the small of her back as they headed to the room they’d been working on, Alucard’s fingers lingering on her arm as the two of them drew runes around a window—she still couldn’t help thinking that they resented her outburst.

_Fft._

_Fft._

_Fft._

* * *

She sat outside later that evening, sprawled on the front steps, head dropped back, elbows behind her.

“You look… comfortable,” Trevor said, and Lucian cracked an eye open to see him with two large wooden mugs and a pitcher full of water. He held it out to her, and Lucian gave him a faint grin, touching the pitcher and turning its contents to ţuică.

Trevor poured them drinks and passed her a mug, and Lucian took a large gulp.

“Sypha still feels terrible, you know,” he said, swirling the contents of his mug before drinking as well.

“I didn’t mean to,” Lucian whispered, staring down at her drink.

“Which is why she feels terrible,” Trevor said, like it should be obvious. “Luce, we know you’re… different. Bit odd, but come on—I’m a drunkard, Sypha’s probably the most un-Speakerlike Speaker in history, Alucard’s a sulky bastard with daddy issues—none of us are normal.”

“Is this you trying to cheer me up?” Lucian asked, amusement colouring her voice.

“Seems to be working,” Trevor said, and clanked his mug against her own. “Drink up, baby Jesus.”

Lucian laughed despite herself and drank deeply, savouring the taste of the ţuică. She’d not been able to produce wine—or a lake of beer, for that matter—and had no idea why it was ţuică, of all things, but at least it tasted good.

Trevor stared out over the forest as the sun set and sighed. “It’s funny, you know?” he said. “Out there on the road with Sypha, it seemed like we were running into night creatures nearly every day, but here, it’s… peaceful.”

Lucian glanced over at him. “Not gonna be the same out on the road, is it?” she said.

“For one, the lack of hot baths is going to suck,” Trevor said, and swatted her shoulder when Lucian gave him a look. “I _like_ being clean, believe it or not.”

“Not.”

“I hate you,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip.

“You love me,” Lucian teased, and Trevor choked on his drink.

“...Think I do, actually,” Trevor said, and it was Lucian’s turn to choke. 

They glanced at each other, and Lucian hesitantly reached out to touch his face, his stubble rough under her fingers. It was so different from the smooth coolness of Alucard’s skin or the soft warmth of Sypha’s, but…

“Yeah,” Lucian said at last, and Trevor grinned. “I do, too.”

She leaned in, and Trevor did as well. The kiss was brief, the taste of ţuică on both their lips, and was only broken apart by Alucard’s voice. “Out of all the things I didn’t expect to see today.”

“What, are you going to bite me for kissing your girlfriend?” Trevor asked, breaking away from Lucian.

“Or bite you for kissing her and not me,” Alucard said dryly, sitting down so Lucian was between them. Trevor flipped him off, and he returned the gesture, draping an arm around Lucian’s shoulders. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and she leaned into him.

“You’ll have to forgive him,” Alucard said. “His technique definitely leaves something to desire.”

“You’re the one to talk—for a half-vampire you’re an uptight prude,” Trevor said fondly.

“And you’re a horny manchild who thinks with his lower brain.”

“At least it doesn’t let me overthink things like you do.”

“Obviously, or else you wouldn’t be here with the rest of us.”

“You’re not arguing _again_ , are you?” Sypha said as she wandered outside, sitting on Trevor’s other side—practically on his lap, as she draped her legs over his thigh.

“No,” Alucard and Trevor said at once, and glared at each other.

“They were,” Lucian said, and sipped at her ţuică to hide her grin. “I think it’s their method of flirting.”

Sypha laughed and pressed against Trevor, and his hand settled on her hip. “ _Men._ ”

“Men,” Lucian agreed.

“Sexist,” Trevor muttered.

Sypha lifted a shoulder, grinning sheepishly. “Fair enough. Enjoying the sunset, are we?”

They looked out over the forest, at the sky turned a brilliant orange by the dimming light.

And Trevor had to admit, it was good.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucian said, breaking the silence. “I’m just trying to enjoy this while it lasts. The peace, you know? Once we leave…”

“The night creatures avoid the castle out of fear,” Alucard said. His fingers tightened briefly on Lucian’s shoulder. “There will be no such protection once we set off again.”

“You’re such a dramatic git,” Trevor said, shooting Alucard a look. “It’s not like Sypha and I haven’t been dealing with the things the last two months.”

Sypha’s hand curled around his arm and she laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Remember those goats with the flaming—?”

“I’d rather _not_ ,” Trevor said at once, and Sypha’s laughter echoed off the stone walls. 

“Pass me the ţuică?” she said, and Trevor just handed her the jug Lucian had changed. Sypha took a sip from it before passing it back to Trevor, who passed it over to Lucian, who passed it to Alucard. He sniffed the contents uncertainly before drinking, and set the jug down on the steps. 

“Well, at least we’ll never want for alcohol on the road,” he said dryly. “I’m sure Belmont is thrilled with the idea.”

“Piss off, you self-righteous smug bastard,” Trevor said.

“Eat shit and die.”

“Yes, fuck you,” Trevor said, without missing a beat, and the pair of them laughed.

Lucian snickered, drinking deeply from her own mug. “Never change, you two,” she said, leaning into Alucard’s side.

“You mean besides the snogging, or—” Trevor said before Lucian elbowed him.

Sypha let go of Trevor’s arm to sit on the step just below the rest of them so she could look at everyone. “I do think we need to talk about that,” she said, and Lucian felt her stomach twist into knots. “Just to make sure we’re clear on everyone’s expectations.”

“You mean jealousy,” Alucard said dryly, and Sypha shrugged.

“ _I_ don’t mind who’s sleeping with whom, but it’s probably a good idea to see what everyone else thinks.”

Lucian and Alucard glanced at each other, and Trevor laughed before downing the rest of his ţuică and pouring another drink. “I knew you two were sharing a bed, but—”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucian said, certain her face was bright red. 

Alucard was oddly quiet, letting his hand fall from Lucian’s shoulders. She nudged him, biting her lip, and he realised his lack of a comeback was likely what was worrying her—but he didn’t particularly feel like snapping at Trevor. It was odd. 

“We slept together,” he finally said, and hissed when Trevor whistled. “Spare me your theatrics.”

“I’ll give you all the theatrics you want, you twat.”

Sypha held up a hand and they fell silent, only to glance at each other when they realised that Sypha… 

Well, when she wanted her own way, Sypha got it.

“I don’t mind,” Lucian finally said, breaking the silence. “I—I mean, Alucard and I are, um. Yes, but…” She glanced at Sypha and Trevor before ducking her head. “God, it’s just… weird, knowing I’m breaking… pretty much every vow I ever made. And all of the church’s teachings. And—”

“Like you followed them so closely before?” Trevor said dryly, and Lucian’s cheeks pinked.

“What about you, then?” she said defensively, and Trevor had to pause.

“Oh, what the hell?” he sighed. “I’m already a heretic, might as well have fun with it in the meantime.”

“Typical Belmont,” Alucard said. 

Trevor raised an eyebrow. “What does the dhampir have to say?”

Alucard’s eyes locked with his for the briefest of moments. “I’m hardly one to talk, am I?” he said at last. “Whatever this is that the four of us have together… far be it from me to oppose it.” 

Sypha leaned in to kiss his cheek, and Alucard’s hand came up to linger where her lips touched. “I wouldn’t call that sorted, but it’s a start,” she said cheerfully. “Lucian—pass me that pitcher? I think we should celebrate a successful day.”

* * *

At some point, they moved into the kitchen, and thanks to Lucian’s miracles, the drinks flowed freely. Beyond that, their memories were fuzzy, and when the four of them woke up, groggy and disoriented in the same bed and wearing their clothes from the night before, none of them could really remember what had happened.

But they did remember the conversation on the steps. 

They would be leaving the safety of the castle tomorrow, but somehow—

As long as they were all together—

They felt it would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From rejection sensitive dysphoria to... a polycule? Man, this chapter was going places.


	47. Chapter 47

It felt surreal to be leaving the castle, Alucard thought as he shut the enormous doors. For the last time, he wasn’t sure, but it felt like he was having to leave a part of him behind. Despite all the bad memories attached to the place, there were a lot of good ones as well.

It was the only place he’d ever called home.

“You’ll see it again,” Trevor said, pushing off from against the wall where he’d been leaning. “I mean, I dunno about you, but I kind of liked knowing where I was going to sleep every night.”

Alucard snorted and brushed past him. “Not as much as the rest of us liked knowing you were bathing regularly.”

“Har har, Trevor smells,” he said sourly. “Come up with some new material.”

“Come _on_ ,” Sypha called impatiently from the wagon. “The sun isn’t even up yet and you’re _still_ managing to waste daylight!”

“See?” Trevor said, slouching his way down the steps. “She understands how to do it.”

“Please, that was barely an insult to begin with.” But Alucard let his fingers trail over the stone bannister as he followed, a silent farewell to the castle.

Trevor took his spot at the front, and Alucard climbed into the back to sit beside Lucian, whose legs dangled over the edge. She’d swapped her old priest’s cloak for a dark green one of his mother’s, and was huddled in it, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped protectively around Kerberos on her lap. There were dark circles under her eyes almost like bruises, but she looked wide awake.

“Just like old times, huh?” she murmured to him. 

“I suppose so,” he murmured back, tugging his coat closer around him as the wagon began to move.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how Lucian glanced over at him, and he turned his head away, not in the mood to talk.

She drew Kerberos up to her chest as she leaned back against one of the sacks behind them, sighing. “Well, it’s like Trevor said—we’ll be back before you realise it.”

“Lucian,” Alucard said tiredly, “I know you mean well, but don’t. Please.”

He heard the soft intake of air and he could just picture her opening her mouth to argue—but she remained silent, and he closed his eyes, just listening to the creaking of the wagon and Sypha and Trevor’s discussion up at the front.

“— _not_ going through Lindenfeld again, I don’t care if it’s a shorter route to Severin,” Sypha said.

“We don’t have to go through it,” Trevor said. “Sypha, I already planned it out, we’ll reach the city in three weeks if we just—”

“ _Trevor_ ,” she said, and Alucard lifted his head when her voice broke. 

Sypha’s hand wrapped around Trevor’s arm and she stared up at him, shaking her head. Words failed her—which they never did, they always came so easily to her, but all she could do was picture the shelves upon shelves of too-small shoes mounted on the wall, and her fingers tightened on his arm. 

“We made enough enemies taking the long way around,” Trevor said, but he hung his head, thinking.

Sypha finally found her voice. “What if we went the other way, then?” she said. “It’s not like we’re in any particular rush to get to Severin, it’s just… a place to start looking for more night creatures. Right?”

“The roads aren’t as good in that direction,” Trevor said. “Believe me, I spent enough time wandering the country to know. There’s not even a proper town between here and Braila, we’d be in the wagon for weeks. I know I—” He paused, and Sypha didn’t miss the glance he shot toward the back of the wagon. He lowered his voice, but if Alucard was listening in they both knew he’d hear anyway. “— _get along_ with Alucard better than last time, but we were ready to kill each other after two days.”

“Try two hours,” Lucian mumbled from the back, and though Sypha was still miserable at the prospect of going so close to Lindenfeld, she did have to admit that was kind of funny.

“Alucard?” Sypha asked, turning around. She frowned when she realised Alucard and Lucian were sitting against opposite walls, not looking at each other. “If Lucian heard us, you must have—”

“Do whatever you wish,” Alucard said, not looking up at her, either. “It makes no difference to me where we’re going.”

She couldn’t deal with that right now. Those two sulking, Alucard back into his foul mood—she just couldn’t. Sypha locked those emotions far away to confront later.

Trevor looked over at her and she wanted to throw herself on him and beg—please, _anywhere_ but there—but even if she had nothing else, she still had her dignity. If she had to go that way, then… she’d figure it out one day at a time.

But then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing her hair. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Trevor asked, and Sypha nodded mutely, hugging herself. “Alright. We’ll go to Braila first, then.”

* * *

Aside from the initial discussion—and some grumbling from Trevor about letting him plan the journey if it was going to get changed five minutes on the road anyway—the wagon was uncomfortably silent, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Lucian kept glancing between Sypha and Alucard, wanting to talk to either of them, both of them, to draw one of them away to the privacy of an empty room, and it finally hit her how accustomed she’d grown to living in a castle over the last few months.

The silence stretched on and Lucian settled down against one of the satchels and drew her newly acquired cloak around herself, tucking Kerberos under her chin.

She was used to getting sleepy in boring classes, and now without the added terror of leaving her city with a group of strangers to kill Dracula, it turned out wagon rides where nobody said a word were just as intensely dull.

But the dream she had when she dozed off definitely was not.

She initially recoiled when she found herself in what looked like a rectory office, but Lucian relaxed slightly when she realised it wasn’t the one in Gresit. But only slightly, because that brought up two questions: where was she, and who were the armoured men bent over the centre table, looking at a map?

It was one of those _real_ dreams again, and Lucian remembered what Trevor had said about bilocation—but the stories she’d been told of the miracles of saints long since dead had made it seem like they physically occupied the spaces, not moving through them as if a spirit.

Lucian stepped forward, squinting at the map on the table. It seemed to detail all of Europe, though it took her a minute to figure out the language: French.

One of the men wore a rich white and gold cloak, which was just as immaculately clean as his armour. His hood was pulled up, obscuring his face, and he talked much too fast for her to even pick out individual words. Not that it would have helped if she could.

“ _Sieur Trantoul_ ,” his companion began slowly, the first words Lucian was able to understand at all. He jabbed a gauntleted finger at the map, nearly hitting Lucian’s hand, and she jerked away—and knocked over the candlestick used to weigh down the corner.

She leapt back, pressing her hands to her mouth and biting back a scream, certain they would see her, but both men jumped, the cloaked one moving inhumanly fast to smother the flames before they could consume the parchment entirely.

His companion reached for the map, but the cloaked man pushed him toward the bronze double doors at the end of the room. “ _Laissez tomber! Sortez de là, quelqu'un nous espionne._ ”

Lucian slowly edged around the table, unable to understand the words, but she got the gist of it from his tone well enough. She glanced down at the map and swallowed when she realised the flames had burned away nearly all of Wallachia.

She heard the door slam shut and the clanking of armour, and looked up to see the cloaked man stride back to the desk, laying a hand over the scorched part of the map. He kept his head bowed, face hidden in the shadow of his cowl, and he didn’t look up when he spoke. 

“ _Montrez vous! Nous savons que vous êtes là!_ ”

Lucian remained frozen in place, hardly daring to breathe.

“ _Merde_ ,” the cloaked man sighed, and from the slump of his shoulders, he looked utterly defeated. He rolled the map up, somehow delicate despite the gauntlets he wore, and Lucian decided to try and take the risk to see his face—but then he was gone, across the room and out the door so fast she wondered if her dream world was starting to fall apart. 

When it didn’t, and trying to wake herself from the dream didn’t work either, she decided to have a snoop around the office and hope she didn’t suddenly become visible to the rectory’s inhabitants should they return.

Almost all the books’ titles were in French, though she examined the Latin ones with mild interest, determining that the men were likely holy knights of some sort. 

Members of the church or not, Lucian couldn’t help but feel bad for scaring them. She went back over to the table and tried to right the candlestick, only for her fingers to pass through it. 

“Oh, come on,” Lucian muttered. “So you’ll knock over when it’s most inconvenient for me, is that it? Stupid powers.” Her hands passed through the candlestick again. “Stupid dreams.” She sighed—and her fingers closed around the candlestick. She hastily righted it and touched the wood of the table that had gotten scorched, mending the burn away.

“Sorry about that,” Lucian said, and paused before shaking her head. “And now I’m apologising to the furniture. Fantastic.”

She turned to the desk crammed in the corner next to a wooden door, eyeing the papers that sat atop it. She’d bet anything that the cloaked man was a captain of some sort, maybe even higher ranking, and that this was his personal war room.

The church claiming to be advocates of peace while endorsing war and employing knights. How very fitting—the Crusades wouldn’t have happened in a vacuum, after all.

A cursory glance over the topmost papers showed they were written in French as well (shocker), and she didn’t care to waste her time trying to find something she could read when there were glass display cases around the room, and Lucian turned her attention to those, her frown of concentration turning to confusion, and then worry.

The objects on their own would be innocent, but she’d heard of women being accused for having a lesser collection of herbs and spices and phials of… whatever it was that collection of glass bottles she found upon opening one of the lower, solidly wooden doors.

Had she been wrong? Had she stumbled into some cultist’s chambers by mistake? And if so, _why?_

A scrap of fabric in one of the cases caught her eye as she passed, nearly overlooking it despite the place of honour it had been given. 

“Oh, God,” Lucian whispered, picking up the fabric; it was frayed around the edges, jagged like it had been torn, but otherwise very lovingly cared for.

The world turned into a nauseating swirl of pink and green, and Lucian clenched the scrap of fabric in her fist, desperate to hold onto it even as she ran against the pull, trying to get back to the rectory. “Wait! I wasn’t done!”

Lucian opened her eyes, only to groan and close them again against the bright light. “Fuck.”

“You were moaning and sweating in your sleep,” Trevor said, and she realised she’d been moved outside the wagon, Trevor’s thigh acting as a pillow for her while Sypha dabbed at her forehead. “Alucard thought fresh air would help.”

“Where is he?” Lucian asked, realising Alucard was nowhere to be seen—and then yelped when he was at her side in a blur of red.

“Well, I _was_ going to say ‘pacing like a caged tiger’, but he’s here now,” Sypha said helpfully, and Lucian sat up with a groan. "Kerberos is in the wagon, before you ask—"

“Forgive me for being worried,” Alucard said tersely. “Lucian, what happened?”

“I… don’t kn—” Lucian’s hands went very, very still,and then she swallowed, painfully aware of how dry her throat was. “I think I had another one of those dreams,” she said at last. “Like Lindenfeld. Only this time, it was a rectory, I think. There were knights. And the room they were in… there were cases. Normal herbs and things, but weird for a knight to keep, you know?”

“Lucian,” Sypha said urgently. “ _What did you see?_ ”

Wordlessly, Lucian held out her hand and opened her fingers. The balled-up scrap cloth unrolled to reveal a perfectly embroidered Belmont crest sitting on her palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMMMMM GOSH I WONDER WHAT THAT MEANS


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of rape and a non-consensual kiss in this one.
> 
> And now, for something completely different. Enjoy...

Trevor took the cloth with shaking hands, turning it over to study the stitches on the back.

Familiar embroidery, in a pattern he remembered his father teaching him as a boy, though he’d struggled to perfect the delicate needlework after his family’s death. 

He examined the front again, and ran a thumb over the gold thread, much finer than anything he’d ever been able to scavenge to add to his tunics.

“It was in one of the cases; I almost missed it,” Lucian said, her voice quavering. "But there were lilies on either side of it, like a—a memorial or something.”

“I’m going to need you to tell me everything,” Trevor said, not trusting his voice. “In as much detail as you can.”

Lucian glanced around at the others and bit her lip. “Should we travel while we do? We’ll be wasting time if we stay here.”

“Are you feeling well enough?” Alucard asked, gently touching her face. 

She nodded, and his hand dropped; he strode to the wagon and noiselessly jumped into the back. Lucian frowned, but let it go.

Sypha helped her to her feet. The Speaker’s stomach twisted in knots over Lucian’s mention of Lindenfeld, but the dreams she’d had before—and now again—there had to be _something_ connecting them. It couldn’t be a coincidence she’d lost a pipe in one, and returned to wakefulness with a scrap of cloth this time.

When they were ready to travel again, Sypha took the reins; she wanted very much to turn completely around in her seat to listen, but this concerned Trevor more than her. So she urged the horses into walking, listening with a half-turned head.

Lucian scooted up so she was right behind the driver’s seat, though Alucard remained near the back, staring out over the road.

“I just… fell asleep, and I was there,” Lucian said, stroking Kerberos’ back in an effort to calm herself down. “I thought at first it must have been Gresit’s rectory, but I suppose they all look more or less the same. There were two knights—both fairly young, I think, though one had his hood up. I never saw his face.” She paused, thinking. “His cloak had crosses on it. They were speaking French—”

Trevor, who’d had one elbow resting on the back of the driver’s seat, sat up at that. “Are you certain?”

“I got a look at the map they were studying, and some of the books in the office. It was definitely French.” 

“Which you don’t speak,” Trevor groaned. “Fantastic.”

“The hooded knight’s name was Sir Trantoul,” Lucian said. “...And he said ‘shit’ at one point, I did get that much.” She paused. “Does the name mean anything to you? If your family’s crest was there…”

Trevor rolled his eyes skyward in thought, and after a moment, he shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“You said the Belmonts came from France,” Sypha said, glancing at Trevor. “Family friends, perhaps? The crest could have been kept as a memento.”

“Well, that sounds far too benign for it to apply to our lives, so I doubt it,” Trevor said. “What else was there, Lucian?”

“Ah—well, they couldn’t see me, but I was… there, in some way. Trantoul gestured and I jumped back—knocked over a candle onto the map.” She shivered, her hands stilling on Kerberos’ back when she thought back to the dream. “Trantoul stopped the fire before it could spread much, and chased the other knight out of the room. He shut the door and spoke to... somebody, even though he couldn’t tell I was there.”

Sypha’s hands tightened on the reins. “Are you sure about that?”

“...No?” Lucian admitted. “But he never looked up at me. I think he just knew something was there that shouldn’t have been. And… that’s when he said ‘shit’, rolled up the map, and left.”

“But you didn’t follow,” Alucard finally spoke, his voice low. 

“I honestly thought I was going to wake up soon,” Lucian admitted. “I mean, Trevor and Sypha saw me in Lindenfeld, I wasn’t there for long.”

Sypha _really_ wished they’d stop saying that name.

“So you decided to snoop?” Trevor asked. “You said you saw herbs and things.”

Lucian screwed up her face as she tried to remember. “I recognised some from Alucard’s books. Mostly plants with medicinal properties, but one of the cabinets I opened—Trevor, there was blood in vials.”

“Which were being kept for a completely innocent reason, I’m sure,” Trevor said sourly. 

“Well, they certainly weren’t out on full display in the cabinets with the other things,” Lucian muttered. “I found the cloth not long after, and then everything went all—pink, and green, and bright, and then I woke up.”

Sypha pulled the horses to a stop and turned around to stare at Lucian. “Are you sure?”

“Unless this is a second layer of dreams, but—”

“Not about waking up,” Sypha said. “The colours.”

Lucian nodded, wondering at the significance, and then— “Oh, _fuck._ ”

“You think this is tied to the Infinite Corridor somehow,” Trevor said, horror dawning on his face. “You don’t think they’re trying to summon Dracula as well?”

“I mean, there was no hint of night creature,” Lucian said slowly. She frowned. “Which… I didn’t really think of it until now, but the rectory felt _normal_. Not consecrated, but not desecrated, either.” She closed her eyes, fighting to draw the memory back. “But the place still felt holy, if that makes sense?”

Alucard finally deigned to look at her. “So which was it? Consecrated or unconsecrated?”

“I don’t know,” Lucian said in frustration. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“Pity.”

Sypha cleared her throat, much more loudly than needed to get their attention. “ _If_ this is tied to the Infinite Corridor, then what you saw could have been from almost any point in time,” she said. “Lucian? Was there anything that you saw that might tell us _when_ you were?”

Lucian shook her head, biting her lip.

Trevor took the reins back from Sypha to keep the wagon going. “Until we’re proven otherwise, we’ll assume for the time being it was in the present,” he said darkly. “Especially if Lucian’s up and stolen something she said was _enshrined_ in that cabinet; it would be just our luck if somebody came looking for it.”

A pause, and then:

“ _Shit_ ,” Lucian said. 

* * *

Hector’s dreams were fitful, full of red hair and that scented perfume that overwhelmed him and filled his nostrils. He jerked awake when the door to the room was banged open, and he lifted his head from the pillow, shrinking back against the headboard when Lenore approached.

“Come along now, darling,” Lenore said, stopping beside the bed. “My sisters wish to see you.” She extended a hand expectantly.

Hector’s jaw set, though some of the tension eased from his shoulders. She didn’t want to join him in bed. Not yet, anyway.

Reluctantly, ashamedly, he pushed off the covers, and Lenore gave the neck of his nightshirt a sharp tug, forcing him to stumble forward until they were pressed together.

“Good boy,” she said, tugging him down and kissing his forehead. His skin crawled at her touch and he jerked away. Lenore let him go; she could have made him stay there, had she so wished. 

“Get dressed,” Lenore added. “I won’t have you appearing before them in such a state. Whatever would they think of me if I allowed that, after I promised to keep you in such comfort?”

Her words rankled, and she must have seen his reluctance to obey, because she lifted her hand with the ring, raising her eyebrows at him meaningfully. The ring clamped around his own finger began to turn hot, and Hector hurried to do as she’d said, knowing it would just get worse the longer he resisted.

He’d been biding his time, searching for escape. He’d tried to cut his own finger off, but the moment he’d lifted the blade, the ring blazed and red tendrils of magic bit into his body, leaving him writhing on the floor in agony.

The moment he was free, he would kill her, as slowly and as painfully as possible. She didn’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.

Hector was painfully aware of Lenore’s eyes fixed on him as he dressed, keeping his back to her. She thought it cute how he tried to preserve what dignity he had left, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of giving in.

At least the clothes he’d been provided with were of good quality, but after everything that had happened, he’d rather be back in the dungeons, shivering on a pile of straw.

He turned and nearly recoiled when he saw Lenore was holding a leather collar and lead in her hands. “I thought you didn’t need that any more.”

“It’s really more for the show of it than anything,” Lenore said, pressing the collar into his hands. So she expected him to shackle himself. “I’m very sorry about this, Hector, but you’ll understand soon. Forgive me?” 

Her words dripped from her mouth like honey. Poisoned honey.

He'd never forgive her, but he nodded once. "Of course." Hector kept his face impassive as he buckled the collar around his neck, and Lenore led him from the room. At least she didn’t feel the need to jerk him along behind her, but it was a small mercy at best.

They walked from the converted outbuilding where he slept, up a slippery set of stairs set in the hillside and to the castle. Hector expected them to go up to the sisters’ chambers, but instead Lenore turned down a different corridor.

“Where are we going?” Hector said nervously, and Lenore turned to him, her eyes sparkling.

How he wished to gouge them out.

“The throne room,” she said. “We have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“Shush, now, don’t bother me with any silly questions. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Hector grit his teeth, but obeyed. Inside, though, his mind was whirling. What sort of visitor, and why was it so important the council wanted him there?

Lenore led on, humming to herself. The castle was enormous, and Hector passed the time imagining what it would be like to drive a stake into her heart. 

Too quick a death, but immensely satisfying to imagine nonetheless.

They didn’t enter the throne room through the main doors, but rather a smaller, side one—presumably so the sisters could make discrete entrances and exits while holding court. Before Lenore opened the door, she turned to Hector. 

“You are here merely to listen,” she said. “You will stay by my side on your knees where you belong, do you understand? Do not interrupt us, or I will be _very_ cross with you.”

She spoke to him like he was a child. A very slow, very stupid child.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said through his teeth.

Lenore leaned up on tiptoes to pat his head. “I knew you’d behave yourself,” she purred, and opened the door.

Hector followed her to her throne, which was on the end of the sisters’ lineup: Lenore, Carmilla, Striga, Morana. All of the golden thrones were big and ornate, but the Queen of Styria’s was of course the biggest and most ornate despite being half the size of her general.

“Lenore,” Carmilla said, sounding almost annoyed. “It took you long enough.”

Lenore swept her skirts out in a tiny curtsy before sitting down. “Apologies, Carmilla; I was merely doing as you asked. It would hardly be good form for me to turn up with our forgemaster in his nightclothes.”

“I still think this is a waste of time,” Striga said. She was slouched in her throne, one elbow propped on the armrest and hand supporting her chin. The other was loosely curled around Morana’s forearm, thumb brushing her wife's wrist.

“Carmilla thinks this will be important, love,” Morana said. She sat prim and proper, looking every bit the aristocratic lady.

“Carmilla would think anything important if it suited her,” Striga muttered. “We should be worrying about our borders, I have a counterattack to be planning.”

“Sisters, believe me,” Carmilla said. “You _are_ going to want to hear this.” She raised her voice. “Bring him in.”

Hector had been straining his ears, listening intently to their conversation, and at Carmilla’s words, he looked toward the enormous double doors at the end of the chamber. A pair of guards opened them, and a single vampire strode forward, clad in thick woollen clothing that looked fairly simple, with a sky blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders. As he approached, Hector had to press his lips together, biting back a gasp of shock.

He’d seen the portrait many times in the castle, tucked away in a dusty corner Cezar loved to nap in. Though he’d wanted many times to ask Dracula just _why_ there was a portrait of Leon Belmont hidden away in the castle, he’d never worked up the courage.

But the portrait’s unmistakable likeness stood before him now, devoid of armour and with long, tapered ears that stuck out from fair hair—but it was unmistakably the same man.

_What the Hell?_

“It is an honour to be permitted into your court, your majesty,” he said, bowing deeply. His words were tinged with the faintest hint of a French accent, though his Slovene was flawless. “I am Marcel Trantoul, and I thank you for granting me an audience. I hope you and the council are well?”

“Tell them what you told me,” Carmilla said, leaning forward and lacing her hands together.

“Of course.” Leon—Marcel?— turned to look at the others. His gaze, eyes so dark red they were nearly black, briefly hovered on Hector, who stared back in disbelief. 

“My good friends,” Marcel said, breaking the look. “I believe you are familiar with an organisation calling itself the Brotherhood of Light?”

“Too familiar,” Striga said, her voice rumbling. “They tried to assault our castle nearly two centuries back.”

“Unsuccessfully,” Carmilla laughed. 

“Despite that, we have next to no information on them as a whole. But we’ve been getting reports as of late,” Striga said slowly, affixing Marcel with an appraising look. “I suppose you’re here to confirm them?”

Marcel nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. “Unfortunately, yes,” he said. “But it is because of them I come to offer my services to you.”

“I’m listening,” Striga said, and sat back in her throne, crossing an ankle over her knee.

“You see, one of their numbers is a traitor,” Marcel said, and a smile slowly spread across his face, showing off gleaming fangs. “He sympathised with Dracula’s cause, and now that word of your plan is spreading— _most_ ingenious, by the way, if I may say so—he wishes to assist in any way he can. Our paths crossed by chance, and I could serve as a second spy and envoy between yourselves and him, should you desire.”

“Striga,” Carmilla said, laying a red-taloned hand on her general’s arm. “We have reason to believe that the Brotherhood is leading the rebellion at our borders. Do you not agree that they are far too efficient to be simple human rebels? Which is why the time has come for us to put our new asset to good use,” she added, and waved her other hand vaguely in Hector’s general direction. “Morana, how have the arrangements been coming for that?”

“Very nicely,” Morana said, a smile curving her lips. “I believe we shall be ready for Lenore’s pet to start forging night creatures soon.”

“Forging?” Marcel said in surprise, and the sisters turned to look at him. He bowed deeply. “Forgive my interruption.”

“I don’t blame you for being surprised,” Lenore said, and smiled sweetly. “Devil Forgemasters are very rare to come by, after all, but I assure you, my darling pet here is one of the best.” Her hand rested on Hector’s head, and he wanted to crawl out of his own skin at her touch.

Marcel tilted his head, almost imperceptibly. “If I may be permitted to ask a question?”

“Of course,” Lenore said.

“A forgemaster’s creations are loyal to him, and you, ah, rather seem to have yours on a leash. How are you planning to keep his beasts in line?”

“Lenore is brilliant,” Morana said, the pride audible in her voice. “He is bound to our wills, now, you see, and by extension so are his creatures.”

“If he tries to do so much as disobey, he ends up positively writhing in pain until he does.” Lenore’s sharp fingernails dug into Hector’s scalp and he flinched. 

Marcel laughed. “Oh, but that’s too clever by far. You really are as cunning as they say.” He looked at Carmilla. “If I may request haven in your castle—just a place to return to during the day—I will be your most _willingly_ loyal of servants.”

“I’ve already told him I would consider granting his request,” Carmilla said, “but that I would want the rest of you to hear him out first. So, sisters? What will it be?”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Lenore said, smiling. 

Striga rubbed her chin. “Information is the greatest weapon when it comes to war,” she said. “And so far, when it comes to the Brotherhood, we have very little. The idea definitely has some appeal.”

“Having direction for our growing army would put the night creatures to far better use,” Morana added. “But I think this discussion would be better held in our chamber. Sisters?”

“Agreed,” Carmilla said, and rose smoothly from her throne. “Marcel, regardless of our decision, you may spend the day here as our guest. Feel free to look about the castle; we have a very fine selection of blood if you’re thirsty. You are dismissed.”

Marcel bowed again. “Thank you, my lady,” he said, and left, cloak streaming behind him.

Hector startled when Lenore unfastened his collar, coiling the lead in her hand. “I _am_ sorry, Hector,” she said, pouting at him. “But I have appearances to keep up. You _did_ understand all of that, I hope? We’ll be needing your services soon.”

Hector nodded once, and goosebumps erupted along his skin when Lenore leaned in to add, “And I’ll be needing your _services_ come morning.” Her lips just brushed the curve of his ear, and his breath caught, heart thudding rapid-fire in his chest.

“Well, this has been fun, hasn’t it?” Lenore said when Carmilla clicked her fingers impatiently at her to follow them out. “I’ll have to tell you all about our decision when I come visit.”

Hector remained silent, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Now, give me a farewell kiss?” Lenore said, tipping his chin up.

He did, shutting out the world like he’d come to rely on, picturing a better time, a time before Dracula had come to his cottage, when he could just be alone with his animals, practicing his art.

Lenore drew back with a smile, which he supposed meant he’d kissed her to her satisfaction. She patted his cheek and left.

Hector wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood, knees aching from kneeling on the stone floor. He was exhausted from being woken from his sleep, but now that he was out of bed, he might as well go to the library and continue trying to find a way to get out of his predicament. Lenore either didn’t notice or didn’t care; as long as he actively wasn’t trying to run away, the spell didn’t seem to activate, which meant he could work towards escape unhindered.

But as he was walking down a stretch of corridor, cold hands seized him from behind and pulled him backwards into a side room, one hand covering his mouth to muffle his yell.

The door slammed shut and he heard Marcel’s voice, low and urgent in his ear. “I could use your help, but I need to be certain how far Lenore’s spell goes. Are you blindly enthralled to her will?”

Hector shook his head. His first instinct had been to fight back despite the impossibility of escaping a vampire’s grasp, but at Marcel’s words, he went still, knowing fighting wouldn’t give him the best impression.

“Would you work with me against her in any capacity you can?”

A sharp nod, as much as he could manage restrained as he was, and then Hector was released. He staggered forwards and turned to see Marcel leaning against the door, ear pressed to the wood and listening intently.

Hearing nothing, he straightened up and brushed his fair hair out of his eyes. “I apologise for that; I had to be certain. What is your name?”

“Hector Galanis,” he said, and folded his arms. “Though I very much doubt Marcel Trantoul is yours… is it, _Leon?_ ”

From the vampire’s expression, Hector knew he’d guessed right. Leon dragged a hand down his face, and Hector noted that the nails looked short, like they were just growing back into talons from being trimmed down.

“How did you know?” Leon asked, sinking into an armchair and motioning for Hector to do the same.

Hector opted to remain standing, not at all certain how his next words might be taken. “I used to work for Dracula. Your portrait was in his castle.”

From the stunned look on Leon’s face, this was not the answer he’d been expecting. But then he sank back into the chair with a resigned sigh, his expression turning weary. “I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I just want Lenore to fuck right off and die.
> 
> But this... oh man, was this a fun chapter to write. Leon and Hector working together wasn't something I ever anticipated when starting the fic, but the more a plot post-season 3 started taking shape in my head, I knew it had to happen.
> 
> Fun fact, Galanis is a Greek surname meaning 'pale blue eyes'. It seemed fitting for Hector.


	49. Chapter 49

Alucard remained in a foul mood until evening, when they stopped the wagon to make camp for the night. While Trevor and Sypha took care of the horses due to having more experience with them, he and Lucian set off to look for firewood. 

Lucian was tense, quiet, as they searched under the bushes for dry kindling. Alucard wondered why she didn’t speak—and then realised he was being an idiot.

He’d snapped at her earlier that morning to not talk to him, and now that he wished she’d talk to him, she wouldn’t.

_Fuck._

“Lucian,” Alucard said, and she looked up at him, brow furrowed. “I should apologise.”

Instantly, the frown vanished, and she shifted her firewood to under one arm. “We left your home,” she said. “I’d be upset, too.”

“...Lucian, we _did_ leave your home,” Alucard pointed out. 

“Yeah, but not exactly one I was going to miss,” Lucian said. “I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

Alucard made a noncommittal noise. “Still. I’m afraid I’ve been rather rude.”

“Yes,” Lucian said. “You were.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, but motion out of the corner of his eye made him look up. Lucian extended a hand, smiling faintly. 

“All good now?” she asked, and Alucard grasped her hand.

She tugged him closer and he went willingly, meeting her for a kiss. She was tall enough he barely had to tilt his head for her, though Lucian still stood on tiptoes to reach a little more easily, dropping her kindling to wind her other hand into his hair.

Alucard let his gathered wood fall as well, catching her around the waist and pulling her against him. 

“Firewood gathering just got a lot more interesting,” Trevor remarked, and they broke the kiss, though Alucard kept his arm firmly wrapped around Lucian’s waist.

“Why?” Alucard said, raising an eyebrow. “Come to watch?”

Trevor crossed his arms, smirking. “Wasn’t planning on it, but…”

Lucian pulled away and scooped up her dropped kindling, lightly swatting Trevor’s arm as she passed. “You’re _awful_ ,” she said, heading back to the wagon.

“Really, Trevor,” Alucard sighed. “Why are you here?”

“I _was_ planning to see if I couldn’t catch something for dinner,” Trevor said. “Don’t flatter yourself, it wasn’t like I’d gone looking for you.”

Alucard was skeptical. “We have provisions in the wagon.”

“Yeah, and I’d rather save those for when we can’t find anything on the road,” Trevor pointed out. He stepped closer. “Unless you have any objections?”

“You said the night creatures have been getting worse as of late,” Alucard said, noting the movement. “It hardly seems wise.”

Trevor’s smirk became a little more pronounced. “Are you _worried_ about me, Alucard?”

Alucard’s lip curled, showing the slightest hint of fangs. “You _wish._ ”

“You _are_ ,” Trevor said in mock surprise. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say aggression was how you showed affection.”

Alucard knew he was being goaded and didn’t care. He grabbed Trevor by the collar and whirled, slamming him up against a tree and kissing him. 

“You,” Alucard growled against Trevor’s mouth, “are infuriating.”

“Shut up,” Trevor said, pulling Alucard back to him.

The last time, he’d been careful of the fangs, but now he slipped his tongue into Alucard’s mouth, tracing over the dhampir’s teeth and avoiding the fang points. Trevor moaned softly when Alucard’s hands moved from his collar down his chest, over his hips, and then with that unnatural strength of his, hitched Trevor off the ground, pushing him against the tree just high enough so they were on an even level.

“Fucking show-off,” Trevor said, barely breaking the kiss to speak.

“Do you want me to _stop?_ ”

“ _Don’t you dare._ ”

Alucard couldn’t explore with his hands, but Trevor certainly could, and he made good use of his new vantage point to rake his fingers lightly over Alucard’s shoulders and back, drawing a moan from the dhampir. 

There was a faint beating of leathery wings from overhead for the briefest of moments. Trevor’s hands stilled and Alucard froze, their foreheads together, listening intently. 

“Did you hear that?” Alucard whispered, voice barely audible.

Trevor nodded against him, and Alucard set him down, the both of them reaching for their weapons. 

And then an explosion of fire from the direction of the caravan shot into the darkening sky, high enough to crest the tops of the trees.

Alucard was gone in an instant in a blur of red, racing through the forest back to the wagon, following the bursts of fire and the increasing sounds of snarls and roars. 

“Sypha, watch out!”

A massive burst of radiance through the trees, bright enough to nearly blind him, and Alucard threw up an arm to shield his eyes before the light died. When it did, he emerged from the trees and slashed at the nearest night creature, a cloaked and hooded thing with decaying arms. His blade merely passed through it, and it turned to swipe at him, claws trailing smoke. Alucard stepped aside, and a flash of light caught his eye.

Lucian was running straight at the creature, bloodied spear in one hand and the other glowing brightly, a look of determination in her face. The light from her palm intensified, and she raised her hand, blasting the creature to wisps.

“You okay?” she panted to Alucard, whirling when an icicle shot past her to impale another demon that was running at them.

“I could ask the same of you,” Alucard said, letting go of his sword. It flew through the air and he leapt at a shadow crawler to land on its broad back, ducking when it reached over its head to swipe at him with its claws. His own nails elongated and he began striking the back of its neck, sword attacking its torso, and when he plunged his claws into its spine and it fell, he was off again to take down another.

Sypha flew past on jets of fire in pursuit of a gargoyle that was trying to escape. She killed the flames once she was close enough to aim, and directed a spray of icicles at it as she fell. The icicles tore through delicate wing membranes in a spray of blood, and the gargoyle fell to the ground, where Lucian vaporised it.

Sypha heard the familiar snap of the Morning Star as she re-ignited the flames and saw Trevor had caught up to them just in time to face down a hellhound, its chest glowing with fire as it opened its mouth. The head of the Morning Star slammed between its jaws, and it swelled and exploded.

“Nice one,” Sypha called as she landed in front of another shadow crawler. “But this one’s mine.” She held her fingers together, calling forth the magic. Her hair stood on end as the shadow crawler galloped toward her.

She gestured, flinging her arms forward as a bolt of lightning arced from her fingertips, blasting a hole in the shadow crawler’s face. It fell on the ground, skidding forward another foot from its momentum, leaving a trail of blood and brains behind it. 

There was silence in the forest for a moment, and Sypha lowered her hands, pleased at how her lightning spells were improving. The impressed look on Trevor’s face was almost as good.

“Is that all of them?” Lucian finally asked into the silence. 

“I think so,” Sypha said. “Thank you for the assistance, but we were doing fine on our own,” she added as she went over to Trevor, giving him a quick kiss. “It looks like your lessons have been paying off.”

“I stabbed, like, one thing,” Lucian muttered, but she looked pleased. She directed a quick burst of light at the bloody head, and the blood vanished.

“So you would rather the next time we hear fighting, we should ignore you,” Alucard said, wiping blood off his sword and sheathing it. “Duly noted.”

Lucian rolled her eyes at him. She was trembling slightly coming down from the rush of battle, but she dutifully went over to the nearest night creature to vaporise its body.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother with the spear when you can just do that,” Trevor said, watching as she worked. 

She and Sypha glanced at each other, and Sypha gave a slight shake of her head.

“Limited reserves and not knowing battlefield positioning make for a dead priest?” Lucian shrugged. “I’d hate to temporarily inconvenience you.”

Alucard stopped by her side and touched her arm; she jumped and turned to face him, his expression heavy. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t joke about that. We don’t know if you would come back a second time. And…” His voice didn’t break, but he faltered briefly. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Hey,” Lucian said, holding out a hand to touch his face. He hesitated before closing the gap. “You won’t, okay? You _won’t._ ”

Sypha left them to it and went to check on the horses; they were still tied to the tree where she and Trevor had left them to graze, though they looked spooked. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Sypha said, stroking the darker-maned horse’s nose. “They’re all gone now.”

Lucky thing she’d been at the camp when Lucian had arrived carrying firewood, because barely a minute later a trio of gargoyles swooped down from the sky, one of them nearly taking Lucian’s head off before Sypha cut it down with a disc of ice. A few massive blasts of fire from Sypha as more night creatures poured in from the surrounding woods, and then Lucian lit up like the sun appeared in the middle of camp, burning away nearly a dozen of the beasts where they stood.

If Trevor knew how many more monsters they faced, Sypha knew she’d never hear the end of it. And Alucard… 

As if she’d summoned him, he appeared beside her. One of the horses nickered uneasily, but Alucard stroked its neck to soothe it.

“That burst of light,” he said. “It was big enough to fill the clearing. How many creatures were there?”

“I’m not sure,” Sypha lied. 

“Sypha, just because you’re smarter than everyone else doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” Alucard said, his voice low, and she sighed.

“At least a dozen more,” Sypha said. “I didn’t exactly have time to sit them down while I conducted a headcount.”

Alucard let out a slow breath. “She’s been getting more powerful,” he said. “She doesn’t burn out so fast, and the things she can do now…”

“And yet, you still worry.”

He looked at her, his face stricken. “You never had to see her body,” he said. “It’s like every time I close my eyes, I can only see her face in death.” His hand stilled on the horse’s neck. “Or Trevor’s face, or your face, except then it’s worse, because I know for you there’s no coming back.”

Sypha covered his hand with her own and tugged it off the horse so she could lace their fingers together properly. “It’s not going to happen,” she said firmly. “Trevor and I can take care of ourselves, Alucard. You must trust us.”

“I do,” he said, looking down at their clasped hands. “I know you can. Rationally.”

“Emotionally is harder,” Sypha said. She leaned up, silently cursing how tall he was, until he leaned the rest of the way down for her to brush her lips over his. Alucard stared at her, wide-eyed, before closing his eyes and melting against her.

Theirs had always been a more intellectual relationship—never quite so physical as he with Lucian and Trevor, nor her with them—and having her in his arms, now, felt strange. But comforting; it meant she was still alive.

Sypha felt the way Alucard sagged against her and she smiled into the kiss—nervous and uncertain with her, but practiced just enough he almost knew what he was doing. She could taste Trevor on his lips and wondered if their battle had interrupted a snog out in the woods. Now _that_ was an interesting thought.

She finally drew back, studying him. “Would you like to sleep next to me tonight?” she asked. “Just to mix things up a bit, of course.”

“Of course,” Alucard mimicked. He let out a short huff of laughter. “You don’t think Lucian would mind?”

“Oh, she can sleep between me and Trevor,” Sypha said, and grinned. “I somehow doubt she’d take issue with that.”

* * *

Hector and Leon had taken to meeting in the library. They’d agreed that Leon visiting Hector’s guest house— _prison_ —would be too dangerous, since Lenore would smell the other vampire in an instant.

But the library was an innocent enough place to meet by chance; Hector knew it was no secret he visited it frequently, and Leon, or rather Marcel, could easily claim a fascination with the collection of tomes. It wasn’t entirely a lie, either; Hector could see a gleam of wistfulness in Leon’s eyes, and he remembered that there was supposed to be a hold, a collection of all the knowledge the Belmonts had accumulated.

He wondered if Leon was thinking about that, whenever he got that look about him.

Hector had jumped at the chance to have an ally in this castle; though he’d been burned far too many times before, Leon was working against Lenore and the others. As far as Hector was concerned, the prospect of seeing her go down was enough for him, even if this time somehow managed to end even worse than it did the last.

But Leon, vampire though he might have been, _was_ a Belmont. Hector had no idea how he might have changed over the past four centuries, or indeed what he’d even been like in life, but Hector knew the stories. And so far, what he’d seen of Leon seemed to measure up.

Then again, he’d been wrong before. So very wrong.

“I can’t remove this without the others knowing something’s gone wrong,” Leon had said after examining the ring that bit into Hector’s finger. “And right now you’re my most valuable source of information I have in this castle.”

Hector hadn’t really expected less, but the disappointment still filled his stomach like lead. “Whatever it takes to bring them down,” he said. “Just promise me you’ll cut it off as soon as you can; I’d do it myself, but…”

“The spell,” Leon said, nodding. He paused, thinking, then slowly said, “I’m not sure how well their… magic would work when mingled with your own abilities, but I know people who might be able to regrow it, after.”

That was the first time in a very long time Hector had had hope.

Leon was unfortunately close-lipped on the matter beyond that. If Hector knew his plans and one of the council ordered him to tell them, then that would be the end of the resistance at Styria’s borders.

There was still no love lost for humanity, but if it meant ruining the council, he simply didn’t care.

In return for what he hoped was Leon’s promise, Hector fed him information of his own. Lenore and the others considered him beneath them—literally, as Hector was made to kneel on the floor at Lenore’s feet while the council discussed strategy. Sometimes if she was feeling particularly spiteful— _playful_ , she called it—she’d toss him scraps of bread when she was bored, making him eat them off the floor like an animal.

Morana was nearly finished setting up a network of killers and carts to supply fresh bodies for him to forge, and all the while, Hector remained silent on the one rather crucial detail he’d kept silent about for months until the day came that Morana announced she was ready to begin production work.

Hector rose to his feet, and immediately four heads swivelled to look at him.

“Get _down_ ,” Lenore hissed, her eyes flashing, and Hector felt the ring begin to heat.

“I can’t forge,” he said, hand twitching from the pain. “I don’t have my hammer. It’s— _aagh!_ —it’s back at the castle—” 

Tendrils of magic shot up his arm and bit across his body. Hector fell to the floor, screaming until Lenore clenched her fist and the pain faded.

It was short lived, however. 

“You _kept_ this from us,” Carmilla snarled, and was out of her seat in an instant, her foot connecting with Hector’s ribs and sending him flying into the wall. Hector slammed against it with a nasty crack and collapsed in a heap. “You INSOLENT LITTLE—!”

Lenore was between them in an instant. “Carmilla, don’t break him,” she said placatingly. “We still need him, and where will the plan be if he’s unable to work?”

“Apparently, without his _hammer_ , he’s useless to us!” Carmilla shouted. 

Against the floor, Hector hid a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace from the pain. Carmilla hadn’t held back with her kick, and he was certain several ribs were broken.

“Carmilla, calm yourself,” Striga said, shifting in her seat. “We can get him a new hammer.”

“Hector?” Lenore said, and he flinched at her touch as she pulled him into a sitting position. “Would you be able to work with that?”

“The hammer I had was special,” Hector began, but Striga leaned forward, eyes blazing.

“You will tell us if you can work with a new hammer.”

The ring barely had time to sizzle before Hector gave in, the pain from scant moments before still fresh in his mind. “Yes,” he gasped, putting a hand to his ribs. “I could, in theory, but the work would be subpar.”

“Well done, Carmilla,” Morana said, making no effort to hide her amusement. “Bringing us back a subpar forgemaster with which to build an empire.”

Carmilla snarled, grabbed Hector’s arm in a vise grip against Lenore’s protestations, and dragged him from the room too fast for him to get his feet under himself. All Hector could do was be thankful the council’s chambers were on the same floor as their rooms, because from the way Carmilla was manhandling him, he doubted he would have survived otherwise.

They burst into Carmilla’s elaborate bedroom and she threw him in front of a table atop which an ancient leather case sat; she opened it, and shards of glass rose into the air. A viewing mirror.

“Show me the forgemaster’s hammer,” Carmilla demanded. The reflection rippled, and when it settled, it showed what was unmistakably Hector’s hammer—but something was terribly wrong. He _knew_ he’d left it on the altar, but there it was on the floor, covered in soot, and worst of all, the coins were missing.

“Well?” Carmilla spat, rounding on him. “Is that your hammer? _TELL ME!_ ”

“Yes,” Hector said immediately, before the ring could burn him again. There was no harm in telling Carmilla that, since without the coins, it would be just as useless as any other hammer in his hands.

“Show me where the castle is,” Carmilla said, turning back to the mirror. The image rippled again, and displayed the ruins of an estate that Hector didn’t recognise, but could guess at what it was.

“The Belmont Estate,” Carmilla said, and began to laugh, a deranged noise that brought back memories of Braila, of when she’d first snapped the collar around his neck before beating him half to death. Hector’s stomach churned.

“Carmilla?” came Lenore’s soft voice from the door. 

Carmilla made the shards disassemble and fall back into the case, which she snapped shut before shoving Hector towards the door. “You, out of my sight. If I see you over the next _week_ , I don’t care how much Lenore likes playing with you. Lenore? Back to our chamber. _Now._ ”

Hector hesitated until he heard the door slam shut, and then he crept into Carmilla’s room again. He’d never dared before, knowing it would leave his smell all over the place, but she’d just given him the perfect cover.

He opened the case, and the mirror rose once more. 

“Show me the coins, please,” Hector said softly. A vampire’s hearing wasn’t nearly as good as their smell, but he didn’t want to take chances. If he was discovered, he was dead for sure.

He saw the coins in the mirror, all right, but their surroundings were dark.

“Zoom out a little?”

This time, the image showed a young man—woman? in the back of a wagon, sound asleep with a small black pug under their arm.

“Cezar,” Hector whispered, touching the mirror and sagging with relief. “You’re okay.”

He studied the rest of the image. Cezar’s new person—and he hoped they were treating him well, judging by the contented look on the pug’s face—was curled between a man with messy brown hair and a woman with orange. It was the person on the woman’s other side that made his eyebrows fly up, though; once again, Dracula’s numerous portraits were useful to him. Dracula’s son, whom he’d never met, but whose face was too familiar from the paintings.

They were asleep in the back of a wagon, but beyond that, Hector couldn’t tell where they were, aside from the middle of a forest.

_Surely the son of Dracula would know a forgemaster’s weapon when he saw one,_ Hector thought. _So why had the coins not been destroyed, merely removed? Unless he didn’t know, after all… but why would the coins be removed at all, then?_

He hesitated, trying to decide between fleeing before he was caught, and satisfying one last curiosity.

“Show me Isaac Laforeze.”

Well, wherever he was, he seemed to be doing well for himself, Hector thought. The other forgemaster was asleep as well, wrapped in a white cloak by a dying fire and surrounded by a small army of night creatures. 

Isaac would want to kill him personally if he knew Hector had survived. And yet, seeing the last remnant from _before_ , alive and well, brought him a small measure of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Thank you, mirror,” Hector said, and the mirror sank back into the chest. Hector hastily closed the latch and fled the room, going to the library to wait to tell Leon what he’d learned.


	50. Chapter 50

“A _mirror?_ ” Leon asked urgently when he returned shortly before dawn. Hector rushed through the story, leaving out the part about the coins and Cezar—and Dracula’s son. Until now, he had been feeding Leon every scrap of information he had that would be pertinent to taking down the Styrian Council, but this…

This, he felt, was information better kept close to his chest. If Leon knew helping him escape could make him a potential future threat, he wanted to minimise those chances.

“A viewing mirror, yes,” Hector said, turning a page and wincing at how the movement strained his ribs. “Why? Do you think Carmilla’s using it to spy on your troops? Because I’ve never heard it come up in discussion.”

Leon let out a startled laugh. “What makes you think they’re my troops?”

“A bunch of knights tolerating a vampire among them? If they’re not yours—though if they are, I would have a great deal of questions—then you’re close with somebody high up.”

“Or for all you know,” Leon said, folding his arms, “I really am doing as Carmilla instructed and I’ve been spying for her all along—but on you.”

“If you’re trying to frighten me, it won’t work,” Hector said, though he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been wondering the same thing. “They would already have had me killed if they knew I was working against them; Carmilla is not a patient woman.”

Leon laughed before quickly stifling the noise. “That, she definitely isn’t,” he agreed. He sighed. “Since she won’t be able to see it in her mirror—and if she asks you, things will have already gone horribly wrong—I don’t see the harm in telling you.”

Hector raised an eyebrow.

“I ‘officially’ made one of the knights the de facto leader of the Brotherhood while I was gone,” Leon said, smiling faintly. “If Carmilla asks to see who their leader is, the mirror won’t show me. I should know; she stole it from us two centuries back.”

Hector laughed, startled but not entirely surprised. “The siege Striga mentioned?”

Leon nodded. “Tried to turn five of my best men at the time,” he said, and his hands clenched into fists on top of the table. “They’re—I can’t tell you yet, but trying to turn them only resulted in their deaths. They _couldn’t_ be turned. I— _fuck_.” Leon sighed. “Hector, I _want_ to tell you, believe me, I do. It’s just—”

“Too risky,” Hector agreed. He still didn’t trust Leon to not abandon him, but for the time being, he would operate as if he wouldn’t. What was worse than the fate Lenore was already subjecting him to? “You can tell me after this is over and done.” He paused. “I say ‘can’, but I think after using me as a spy, you owe me an explanation.”

“At the very least,” Leon agreed. “You deserve that much.”

* * *

The trip to Braila was going smoothly, more or less. Aside from the occasional attack by night creatures—which they dispatched with ease—they encountered next to nobody on the roads. 

It wouldn’t have surprised Trevor if the reason for that was fear. Until two, three months ago, the roads had been relatively safe and populated, the biggest risk being an attack by bandits. Night creatures were a rare sight, and tended to keep to themselves.

It wouldn’t have surprised him either if this new breed of night creatures unafraid to walk in daylight were the creations of one of Dracula’s old forgemasters. Surely somebody under Dracula’s thumb, able to forge an army of monsters wholly loyal to them, would have to be devoted to Dracula’s cause, and skilled enough to catch the vampire’s eye. Perhaps, with Dracula dead, their goal now was to carry on with Dracula’s: to exterminate the human race.

Trevor didn’t know, nor did he particularly care. The main thing was that humankind was still in danger, bastards though they were, and thanks to his companions, that damn _conscience_ of his kept nagging to do the _right_ thing, rather than the pragmatic.

How the mighty had fallen.

* * *

Trevor woke one morning with Alucard pressed against his front, Sypha against his back, and all he could assume was that Lucian was still on the Speaker’s other side. They couldn’t seem to settle on a sleeping arrangement in the wagon, which suited him strangely fine. Sometimes he’d be on the end, Sypha in his arms with her arms around Lucian or Alucard, or he’d be between the two women, or between Sypha and Alucard, or...

They fit against him differently. Sypha, small and soft, Lucian lanky and nothing but bony edges, Alucard pure muscle beneath his touch. 

Trevor still didn’t know what to make of the dhampir; old rivalries between Belmonts and monsters aside, it was hard to reconcile the fact he had a man in his arms—that he _kissed_ him, willingly, longingly—without remembering the long nights spent imagining what might have been, had he been a little bolder with a stablehand, a bartender, a miner he’d met once so many years ago.

Trevor still remembered that one’s smile.

He sighed and tucked his chin over Alucard’s shoulder, burying his nose in the other man’s hair. He was already going to Hell; he might as well enjoy the trip there.

Alucard stirred, and lifted a hand to cover Trevor’s that draped over his waist. “Clingy today, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” Trevor murmured against his neck. “You’re warm.”

Which was true; he’d been surprised to discover it, but Trevor supposed it must be the human blood that pumped through Alucard’s veins, giving him a heartbeat. The dhampir was _warm_ , and soft to the touch despite the muscles. 

Alucard pressed back against him, and Trevor grinned, using two fingers to draw Alucard’s hair away from his ear. Trevor nipped at the lobe, relishing in the soft sigh Alucard let out.

“The dhampir squirming under a hunter,” Trevor murmured when he let go. “I wonder what my ancestors would say.”

Alucard growled, pressing back against Trevor’s body, his back flush with Trevor’s front. “They’d _say_ you should _stop playing around_.”

Trevor’s heart stuttered, and he was certain Alucard could feel the irregular rhythm against his back. “Is that an invitation?” he murmured, fingers trailing over Alucard’s ribs and down to his hip.

The dhampir’s soft groan was music to his ears. “You _bastard._ ”

“Yep,” Trevor agreed, his hand dipping below Alucard’s waistband to run his fingers just over the curve where he could feel a small patch of hair. “Though for all your posturing, you’re just _begging_ for attention, aren’t you?” He wormed his other hand under Alucard’s waist, the dhampir lifting himself slightly so Trevor could get an arm around him. 

Trevor withdrew his hand from Alucard’s trousers, both fingers fumbling with the buttons that kept them impossibly tight across his hips. 

“Okay, seriously,” Trevor grunted, feeling Alucard’s silent laughter against him, “how the fuck do you get these things on?”

“Magic, Belmont,” Alucard drawled—and gasped when Trevor let go of the buttons to cup his groin, thumb pressing down as it ran over the prominent bulge.

How many times had he imagined this scenario? Just—never with Alucard in mind—

_Many_ times with Alucard in mind. _Dammit_.

Trevor’s hands finally found the buttons, and he undid them, sliding Alucard’s trousers down his hips just enough to free his erection. He’d never done this before, not to another person, but when Trevor wrapped his hand around Alucard’s length, the dhampir shuddered beneath him, and the soft groan was enough to make Trevor just as hard.

He began to pump his hand, stroking. There was no gentle touch to be had here, just fast and rough and eager as he relished Alucard’s shuddering beneath him with each tug.

Alucard wanted to twist around and kiss him, but Trevor’s hand wrapped around his cock was too good to give up. He muffled a groan, not wanting to wake Lucian or Sypha, and caught Trevor’s other hand when it roamed over his chest, raking his shirt up. The hand jerking him off stilled when Alucard took a finger in his mouth—between his fangs—sucking lightly, and Trevor resumed the motion while Alucard sucked his finger. 

“Greedy,” Trevor’s voice said by his ear, and Alucard nearly came on the spot. 

He let go of Trevor’s finger, breath coming in short gasps as the stroking sped up. “You’re lucky I don’t bite you.”

“And suffer the indignity the poor priest had to, with you on her lap?” Trevor let the hand that wasn’t gripping Alucard’s cock linger at the crook of his neck, and Alucard leaned into the touch, his breath hitching, hips bucking into Trevor’s hand. "However would I possibly cope."

The finger was between Alucard’s lips again, and his tongue ran over the rough pad as he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Trevor’s calloused fingers rubbing his dick, urging him to orgasm. 

Trevor’s hand faltered when he felt Sypha’s hand settle at his waist as she sat up, but then her voice was low in his ear—

“Keep going. I’m rather invested at this point.”

—and he bit down on Alucard’s shoulder, fabric between his teeth as he kept rubbing his hand up and down, getting rougher as Alucard squirmed beneath him.

Alucard came in his hand, shuddering and letting out a soft cry as he did so. Trevor only let go of his cock when Alucard stilled, and kissed the dhampir’s cheek. 

“ _That_ ,” Trevor murmured, “was definitely worth the wait.”

Alucard’s breath stuttered as Trevor used his hand to wipe up the mess, cleaning it with the corner of a blanket. They’d set up near a creek; it would be no trouble to wash before setting off again. “My wait, or your own?” he asked, barely able to keep his composure. “Because if it turned out the vampire hunter was _aroused_ by—”

“You can fuck off,” Trevor murmured, kissing Alucard’s neck, and he melted into the Belmont’s touch.

Sypha smiled, her hand trailing over Trevor’s hip as she watched Alucard’s reactions. “You know,” she said, the amusement audible in her voice, “I’d rather like to watch that again with a better vantage point.”

“You’re a damn voyeur, you are,” Trevor said, and Sypha laughed softly.

“Not denying it, but I also just _really_ like seeing how my boyfriend makes another man feel,” Sypha said. Trevor could just picture her smirk. “Also, seeing the other man and wondering what _I_ could do to him.”

Alucard finally rolled over under the blankets to look up at Sypha. “That sounds like an invitation to me.”

Sypha leaned over Trevor to press a kiss to his mouth, drawing back slowly to grin at Alucard’s expression. “And that sounds like you’re accepting it.”

“Maybe at a later time,” Alucard said, and lifted himself up from the wagon bed just enough to look at Lucian over the other two. She was sound asleep, her mouth open and drooling on her pillow, a leg hitched over Sypha.

Lucian twitched in her sleep, mumbling, before rolling over and pulling away.

“At least _she_ won’t be annoyed at missing out,” Trevor said against Alucard’s shoulder, and he stifled a laugh. “ _Sypha._ ”

Sypha could only giggle.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw: I looked up pictures of gangrene for this one, just so I could provide a lovely description for you lovely readers. You're welcome.

Braila wasn’t the bustling, prosperous market city Trevor and Sypha remembered when they arrived. There were barely any people on the streets, and the ones they passed had their heads down, hurrying past or talking to each other in murmured voices. 

“What happened here?” Sypha asked in dismay.

Trevor drew the horses to a stop in front of a tavern. “Let’s find out.”

They kept the horses hitched to the wagon in case they needed to leave in a rush, but they fetched water and grain for them while Lucian made sure Kerberos was hidden under a blanket, a rope tied around him to keep him from wandering off.

The tavern ceiling was low and smoke hung near the rafters, and straw covered the floor. The patrons inside were tired, heads low and shoulders slumped. 

Sypha and Alucard found a table—not hard, considering the place wasn’t even half-full—while Trevor and Lucian went to the bar to pay for food and drinks. 

“I don’t get it,” Trevor murmured while they were waiting on their meals. “I’ve been here before, it’s normally a lot more cheerful than this.”

“Dracula’s attacks?” Lucian murmured back. “But it’s been months since then, surely they’d have recovered by now…” 

Trevor lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Guess we’ll find out,” he said. He took the plates of food, balancing them on his arms and carrying them back to the table while Lucian wrapped her long fingers around the handles of the tankards. 

“Ooh, roasted lamb,” Sypha said, and dug into her food when Trevor set her plate down. Lucian passed out the tankards and sat, sniffing her own plate and making a face before starting on the aubergine. Sypha noticed Lucian’s hesitancy, and motioned for her to pass the plate over; when she did, Sypha slid her aubergine over to Lucian, taking the meat for herself.

“Thanks,” Lucian murmured, and Sypha squeezed her hand under the table.

Lucian jumped when Sypha’s hand let go to rest on her thigh, and blushed when she caught the other woman’s look.

“We can split up to cover more ground this afternoon,” Alucard said. He picked at his food, taking delicate bites so as not to let his fangs show. 

Trevor grunted in agreement. “Lucian, you should come with me in case there’s an attack—”

“Are you questioning my capabilities?” she said, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m not helpless any more, not like I used to be.”

“Still inexperienced, though,” Sypha said. “But she’s a lot stronger than you know, Trevor. She’ll be fine.”

“Besides, it’s _Braila_ ,” Lucian said. “What’s the worst that could happen here?”

“You’d be surprised, love,” a woman busking tables said as she swept past Lucian. “You’re lucky you wasn’t here two months back.”

The four of them looked at each other, then at the woman. 

“What happened?” Alucard asked. 

“Bunch of vampires came in and took over ‘fore a great bleedin’ castle appeared in the middle of the city,” the woman said somberly. “Crushed a bunch o’ buildings when it appeared. I didn’t see it happen meself, but I heard the noises. Like thunder.” She scooped up the plates on the table next to them, stacking them in her arms. “Left behind a giant crater and too many bodies to count.”

“Somebody closer to the crater must have seen what happened,” Trevor said, frowning. “We’ll check it out after we’re done here.”

“It’s bad luck, that place,” the woman said, shaking her head, and disappeared to the kitchens.

They shared glances; Trevor took a long drink and set his tankard down heavily. 

“Dracula’s castle must have been here before I pulled it away,” Sypha said quietly. “I didn’t realise that it was Braila in the viewing mirror; I’d never seen it from above before.”

“We should probably have a look after we’re done here,” Lucian said. She stuffed some aubergine in her mouth, chewing as she thought. “It’s weird that there were vampires in the city _before_ the castle, though.”

“Agreed,” Alucard said, frowning. “Perhaps we’ll be able to find some answers shortly.”

“So much for being able to enjoy a meal,” Trevor grumbled.

They ate quickly and returned to the wagon, heading slowly through the streets towards the centre of town. When they crossed the river over a makeshift bridge, Lucian leaned out the back of the wagon, looking at the water and frowning. 

“What’s the matter?” Alucard asked, but Lucian hopped out when they reached the opposite bank, Trevor pulling the horses to a stop as Lucian approached the water. 

She stuck a finger in, her eyes widening. “It’s holy water,” she said as Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard approached. “If the castle was here before Sypha broke it—”

“I did _not_ break it,” Sypha said indignantly.

“—then this must be where the water came from.”

“Lucian, that was months ago,” Trevor pointed out. 

She sat back on her haunches, thinking. “I use salt to consecrate holy water, but you can do it with a rosary, too,” she said. “Remove the rosary, remove the consecration. Somebody might have blessed the river as a defense against vampires, tossed in a rosary that’s still there.”

“For all the good it did them, I guess,” Trevor muttered.

Alucard’s brow was furrowed. “We should keep going.”

They didn’t have to go far. The crater was close to the river, and absolutely enormous—dozens of houses pulverised to dust near the center, even more reduced to rubble on the edges, and a gaping hole that went deep into the earth. A group of men were working to clear the rubble, loading it into carts to haul away. All around them was the smell of decay.

“My God,” Sypha murmured, staring in dismay at the destruction.

One of the workers, a young man who couldn’t have been older than sixteen with a mop of straw-coloured hair, noticed them and stopped to lean on his shovel. “Travellers, huh?” he said. “You’re lucky you missed this.”

“Looks like,” Trevor said, climbing from the cart, and the others followed suit. “What happened here?”

The worker gazed out over the crater and sighed. “They say it was Dracula’s castle,” he said at long last. “Appeared out of nowhere. My family and I had to flee our home when some vampire bitch and her guards took it over, after the castle vanished.”

“Are they still here?” Trevor said, his hand going to the chain at his hip. 

The worker eyed the weapon, but shook his head. “Don’t think anyone would have stuck around if they were,” he said, and Trevor’s hand relaxed. “You guys have names?”

“I’m Trevor. This is Sypha, and Lucian, and—”

“Adrian,” Alucard finished smoothly. “You?”

“Petre,” he said. He sighed, wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm. “Mama’s been in a bad way ever since—we went outside to see what was going on when it happened. A rock or something got her leg, we had to cut it off and lately it’s been turning black.” From the way he bit his lip, he looked a lot more worried than he was letting on.

Alucard knew he was going to regret this, but it seemed like a good way to get some answers. “I have experience with healing,” he said, stepping forward. “I could see if I can treat your mother, and you describe what happened here for us?”

“Old Lorena already took a look at her,” Petre said doubtfully, “but if there’s anything you can do to help—”

“I can’t promise any miracles, but I’ll see what I can do,” Alucard said, glancing at Lucian, who nodded. 

“Hang on, I’ve got to let Mr Balan know I’m leaving,” Petre said, leaning his shovel against the cart and hurrying off.

“Alucard, what are you doing?” Trevor hissed. “If they see your fangs, we’ll be run out of town!”

Alucard met his gaze. “They won’t,” he said simply.

“Trevor, I can help his mother if Alucard can’t,” Lucian said, putting a hand on his arm. “And the mention of vampires in his house—there’s got to be more to that.”

Trevor groaned and turned to Sypha. “You agree with them, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Sypha said. She folded her arms, looking out over the crater and chewing her lip. “Because there’s something more to this that I don’t understand.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. 

“If the crater is all the way over here,” Sypha said, “then why did holy water come along with the castle?”

* * *

They followed Petre in the wagon to one of the relatively undamaged houses near the crater, and secured the horses outside before heading into the house. Lucian paused on the threshold. 

Kerberos’ forgemaster had been here. She could _feel_ the taint of his magic that still lingered faintly, just at the edge of her senses. She shivered and followed the others inside.

“Mama, Da,” Petre said. “I brought guests—one of them says he’s a healer.”

“We’re hunters,” Trevor added. “We heard what happened in Braila and decided to investigate.”

Petre’s mother was sitting on a straw-stuffed sofa, darning a sock with shaky hands. She was an older woman with the same hair as her son, though it was starting to show faint hints of grey. It was twisted up into a simple bun, loose strands falling around her pleasantly round face. Her skin looked clammy, cheeks flushed with fever. 

She cast an appraising look over them and smiled, though it looked tired. “Welcome to our home,” she said. “Please excuse the mess; I’ve not been able to teach my husband how to keep a house very well.”

“I’m learning,” her husband said from by the fireplace, where a large pot dangled over the flames. He was a thin, wiry man with a red beard that looked much too big for his face. “I’m Dorin, and my wife is Clara. And—”

“Da?” A little girl peeked around the door from the next room, her eyes widening when she saw the strangers standing in the entryway. She squeaked and slammed the door shut.

“That’s Elena,” Petre said, rolling his eyes. “She’s scared of everyone, don’t take it personally.”

“I am _not_ ,” Elena yelled, her voice muffled by the door.

“May we come in?” Sypha asked, folding her hands in front of her. “You have a lovely home.”

Clara smiled, though it looked tired. “Thank you,” she said. “No thanks to those vampires.”

“Petre said that some of them took it over briefly,” Trevor said as they moved farther inside. The only place to sit was the single sofa, so he sat on the floor instead, Lucian and Sypha joining him. Alucard knelt by Clara. 

Dorin grit his teeth and nodded. “We were lucky they didn’t kill us. Be a rotten stroke of luck to survive the castle appearing out of nowhere and thrashing about only to meet our maker at their hands.”

“Thrashing… around?” Sypha said, the horrified realisation coming over her like ice.

“Yeah, it was bizarre,” Petre said. “It showed up—that’s what caused the initial crater, but when all the vampires were fighting each other, it started, well— _thrashing_. Turning this way and that, lightning crackling all around it—and then it ended up in the river at one point and flooded the area before disappearing.”

“We were pulling bodies and vampire armour out of the river for weeks,” Dorin said, shaking his head. “At least the poor souls who were crushed under the castle died instantly, but there’s no telling how long some of them might have been trapped in the rubble—”

Sypha got up and fled out the door to the street, hands on her knees as her lunch forced its way up her throat. She sobbed as she vomited, heart aching for all the lost souls she’d inadvertently condemned.

_How many people had died because of her?_

If she’d just been stronger, she could have controlled the castle better. If she’d been smarter, she would have locked it down here instead of taking it to the hold.

Something, anything. She should have been able to prevent this.

Calloused hands rubbed her back, and Trevor silently offered her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. Sypha turned and hid her face against his chest, her body heaving in great, wordless gasps while he held her. 

“Sypha, you did what you could,” Trevor said softly. “You dragged an entire castle across half of Wallachia, there’s no way you could have prevented it from fighting back.”

“I killed _all those people_ ,” Sypha said into his shirt, her fingers digging into his back. “Trevor, I killed—”

“Shh,” he said, cradling the back of her head. “If you hadn’t gotten the castle out of there, they would have died anyway, and everybody else with them. You saved everybody else doing it, okay?” 

Sypha knew in her heart of hearts he was right, but that didn’t make it any better. All she could think about was how pleased she’d been when the spell worked—triumphant— _excited_ —when she’d just unknowingly snuffed out the lives of so many people…

Like ants. She’d been careless with her magic and she killed them like it was nothing.

She didn’t think she could live with herself.

All she could do was hide against Trevor and cry.

* * *

“Why’d she run off?” Petre asked, looking after Sypha and Trevor. 

“Sypha… has a big heart,” Alucard said, settling on a half-version of the truth. “She was devastated when she saw the crater.” He knew, of course, why she’d run, and though he wanted to follow, Trevor would be better suited to comfort her. 

Judging by the way Lucian’s eyes had gone huge, she realised what this meant, too.

Alucard really should have known things were going too well to last. 

“I believe I promised I’d take a look at you,” he said to Clara. “May I?”

She nodded, and he put a hand to her forehead, hiding a grimace. She was dangerously warm, and clammy, her face pale. She pulled up her skirt to show her leg, amputated just above the knee, stump wrapped in bandages. A red rash spread from underneath them, and Alucard frowned as he pressed gently on the rash; it remained red, rather than fading from the pressure. Not a good sign.

“When was the last time these were changed?” Alucard asked as he began undressing them. 

“Earlier this morning,” Petre said, and proudly added, “I did it this time.”

“That’s good,” Alucard said, and then the smell hit his nose.

Clara put a hand over her own nose, and Lucian stifled a gag as the bandages peeled away. 

Petre hadn’t been exaggerating; the stump was black and gangrenous, bits of flesh sloughing off with the bandages. What remained of the leg was literally rotting away, the decay creeping up Clara’s thigh in pursuit of the rash, turning a putrid green near the edges where it swelled with pus.

“Have you urinated today?” he asked Clara, who gave him a confused look, but shook her head. 

_Shit._

Sepsis, he’d bet anything. Which meant he couldn’t treat this.

“Clara,” he said softly, “I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do; your organs are shutting down.”

Dorin took her hand, squeezing tightly as she stared at Alucard with huge eyes. Petre covered his mouth with his hands, stifling a sob.

“How long do I have?” Clara asked.

Alucard glanced at Lucian, who stood up. “I know I said I can’t promise any miracles,” he said, “but…”

Lucian swallowed as she put a hand on Clara’s leg, careful not to touch the decaying flesh. She’d never healed anything this severe before, but surely if she could come back from the dead, curing gangrene should be possible. Right?

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said softly, closing her eyes.

She drew on her energy reserves, pouring everything she had into healing. There was a collective gasp from the family, and when Lucian opened her eyes, the rot hadn’t just vanished; as they watched, bone regrew, healthy muscle forming around it, pink skin free of blemishes to cover the muscle. Knee, shin, and foot, and when Clara wiggled her toes in amazement, Lucian withdrew her hand, slumping. 

Alucard caught her before she hit the floor, and looked up to see Clara and Dorin and Petre staring at them.

“A miracle,” Petre whispered. 

“Who… are you?” Dorin said, staring at Lucian.

She smiled tiredly and used Alucard as a crutch to stand upright, still wobbly. “Just a traveler passing through,” she said.

“Elena!” Clara called, rising from the sofa and holding her skirts up so she could examine her foot. “Elena, come in here! Mama has a surprise for you!”

The door creaked open, and the single blue eye that peeked through widened visibly before Elena flung the door open the rest of the way, running at her mother. “Mama! Your leg came back!”

Clara crouched and caught her daughter, swinging her up into her arms and spinning her around. “It did, darling, thanks to this angel!”

Elena’s eyes were huge as she stared at Lucian over Clara’s shoulder. “You’re an angel?” she whispered in awe. 

“Just a human,” Lucian said, Alucard’s arm wrapping around her waist to support her. “It’s nice to meet you, Elena.”

Elena waved shyly, and hid her face against Clara’s shoulder when Trevor and Sypha came back inside. Sypha’s face was blotchy, her eyes red and puffy, and she was still trembling, but otherwise she was calm.

Trevor took one look at Clara standing on two feet, looked at Lucian, and groaned. “So much for keeping a low profile.”

* * *

Clara and Dorin insisted they spend the night, and after a bit of discussion—Sypha was silent, only responding with shrugs or nods—they agreed. They needed a place to rest, and it would save them the trouble of having to find lodging. 

“Do you think you can wait until we’re out of town to leave the house?” Trevor asked Clara urgently. “We don’t want people asking too many questions.”

“Of course,” Clara said, patting his arm. “It’s really the least I can do for you.” She cast a glance at Lucian, fast asleep in the corner with her head on Alucard’s lap, cloak tucked over her like a blanket while he gently stroked her hair. “Your friend might not be an angel, but I truly believe she was sent by God.”

Trevor snorted. “Don’t let her hear you say that,” he said. He paused. “Though in a way, you’re not wrong.”

Clara sang as she made dinner, swaying side to side and occasionally getting pulled into quick bursts of dance by her husband. Trevor offered to help, but she waved him off, so he went to join Sypha on the sofa, putting an arm around her. She leaned against him, staring at the wall—staring at nothing.

Trevor rubbed her arm, looking up when Petre hesitantly sat on his other side. He noticed the boy was staring at the Morning Star on his hip, and gave him a faint grin. “You like it?”

Petre nodded. “You said you’re a hunter?” he said. “Are you going after the vampires?”

“That’s the plan, anyway,” Trevor said. “Don’t suppose you could tell us where they were headed to?”

Petre shook his head. “I do remember what they looked like, though,” he said. “The guards had black and white armour, and they had this lady with them, I think she was their leader. Very pale skin and long white hair.”

“Carmilla,” Alucard said, and Lucian stirred, yawning as she sat up. “If I had to guess, she went running back to Styria with her tail tucked between her legs.”

“You… know her?” Petre asked.

“We’ve met,” Alucard said shortly.

“Whusgoinon?” Lucian mumbled.

Alucard pressed a quick kiss to her temple. “We know what happened to at least one of Dracula’s old generals,” he said. “I think our next destination will be Styria.”

Lucian rubbed sleep out of her eyes. “Oh—Petre,” she said, sitting up a little straighter, “Was it just the vampires who took over the house, or was there a human, too?”

“Yeah,” Petre said, blinking. “Yeah, actually. I almost forgot about him. How did you know?”

Lucian put her hand on the floor, fingers splaying on the rough wooden boards. “He’s a forgemaster,” she said. “I can feel a sort of… lingering taint of his magic. The house is fine,” she added quickly when Petre’s eyes widened in fear. “It’s more like I can tell he spent some time here.”

Trevor whistled softly. “Even after this long? That’s… impressive.” He paused. “And also worrying. If this Carmilla’s got a forgemaster working for her…”

Alucard and Lucian glanced at each other, then at Petre. 

“Petre, you mind if we step outside for a bit?” Lucian asked, and he hastily shook his head.

They headed outside, Sypha trailing mutely behind them. Lucian shut the door, and she, Trevor, and Alucard put their heads together.

“I remember Carmilla from when my father would hold court,” Alucard said, his voice low. “She’s a scheming woman, and with his death there’s no doubt she’s already trying to seize power. If Carmilla has one of my father’s forgemasters working with her now—”

“We’ll be seeing a whole bunch of new night creatures soon,” Trevor finished. “Though why haven’t we already?”

Alucard shrugged. “It’s a long way back to Styria,” he said. “And setting up a proper forging laboratory takes time.”

“Um,” Lucian said, the coins uncomfortably heavy in her belt pouch, “I never got to finish reading, but can forgemasters do their work without a forgeblade?”

“Yes,” Alucard said, glancing sidelong at her. “Though not as easily without the proper tools." He paused. "Why?”

“Just—sudden curiosity,” Lucian said, raking her knuckles together. _Fft-fft-fft._

So she’d been right to take the coins with her after all. She wondered if Carmilla had already sent forces to the castle to retrieve the hammer—if they’d left just in time. 

The safest thing to do would be to destroy the coins, of course, but that risked killing Kerberos.

Stupid, to leave such a powerful weapon intact for the sake of a dog that would hold no loyalty to her if given the chance. 

Alucard raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue.

“Sypha?” Trevor asked.

Sypha had been quiet, staring down at the cobbled street as she listened to the others. Now, though, she raised her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “We’ll go to Styria,” she said. “Whatever we do—we have to do whatever it takes to save people, as many as we can.”

Lucian sought out Sypha’s hand, but Sypha pulled away, hugging herself and looking off in the direction of the crater. 

“We will,” Trevor said softly. “That’s what we’ll do, Syph.”

“So it’s decided,” Sypha said, and turned to go inside. “We’ll leave for Styria in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sypha.


	52. Chapter 52

Searing pain as razor-sharp blades plunged into her chest, over and over, _their_ faces cold above her as she screamed—

Lucian jolted awake, only barely relaxing when she found Sypha in her arms.

Sypha’s back to her, but she must have heard a change in Lucian’s breathing, because she spoke. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Lucian murmured, tucking her chin over Sypha’s shoulder. “You too?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I just…” Sypha tensed under her arms. “Lucian, I keep thinking back to that day and wondering what I could have done.”

Lucian lifted her hand to stroke Sypha’s hair, the orange locks soft and silken. “Sypha, you didn’t mean to—”

“That makes it _worse_ ,” Sypha said, curling in on herself. Lucian could feel her beginning to tremble. “What if it happens again? Somehow—”

“It won’t,” Lucian said firmly. “Sypha, we can’t change the past, but what we do with the future’s up to us. Alright? I don’t know magic, but I know you, and I know you won’t let it happen again.”

Sypha rolled over so their foreheads were pressed together. Lucian used her thumb to gently wipe away the silent tears that fell down Sypha’s cheeks.

“Please try to sleep?” Lucian said softly. “I know it sounds silly, but you really will feel a little better once you’ve had some rest.”

“Yeah,” Sypha whispered. “I’ll try.” She closed her eyes, more tears slipping out, and Lucian brushed them away as well, kissing her forehead.

She waited until Sypha’s breathing was slow and even, and Lucian carefully eased free so as not to wake her. She stood from the pile of blankets on the floor where they were resting, and Trevor lifted his head. 

“Luce?” he asked groggily. 

“Just going out for some air,” she said quietly, stepping over his and Alucard’s tangled legs. 

“Fuck, I’ll come too,” Trevor said, disentangling himself from Alucard’s grasp and following her outside. 

Lucian went to the wagon to check on Kerberos; the dog had remained dutifully hidden under the blanket, but when Lucian approached, barked excitedly, bounding across the floor of the wagon to greet her. Lucian held out her arms, and he leapt into them, Lucian laughing softly as she cradled him to her chest.

Trevor loosely folded his arms, watching with a raised eyebrow. “You know it won’t be so friendly towards you once we find its master.”

Lucian rubbed Kerberos’ head and sighed, nodding. Her heart ached at the thought, and she hugged him tighter, sitting down at the back of the wagon. Trevor sat next to her.

“I’ve got a confession to make,” Lucian said, and Trevor eyed her. She took a deep breath and swallowed. “But you’ve gotta promise you won’t hurt Kerberos, alright? He can help us find his master so we can stop whatever Carmilla’s planning.”

“Not a great way to put me at ease, but… go on,” Trevor said slowly. 

Lucian shifted Kerberos to one arm, then hesitated. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Trevor said, holding up a hand and sighing. “I promise.”

She dug into her belt pouch and produced the coins, grimacing at how they buzzed in her hand. Kerberos sniffed them and yapped, tail wagging. “I’ve got the forgemaster’s weapon.”

Trevor stared. 

He fell back against the side of the wagon, beginning to laugh. “Christ, Enache, how long have you had those things?”

“You remember when I fell asleep in the hold?”

Trevor nodded, and groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You were researching—fuck’s sake.”

“I just wanted to know if I could destroy the coins without hurting Kerberos,” Lucian said desperately.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Trevor said, sighing. “Information on forgemasters is rare; they aren’t exactly a common breed. Alucard or Sypha might; we could ask them in the morning.”

“But you won’t—”

“I’m not gonna hurt the damn dog, don’t nag,” Trevor said, and rolled his eyes. “You’re right about him being useful if we’re going to be tracking his master back to Styria, though.” He paused. “It’s weird he would leave his weapon behind, though. Or…” He held out a hand. “Can I see those?”

Lucian passed the coins to Trevor, who turned them over, studying them. “Weird it’s just a pair of beat-up old coins.”

“They were embedded in this giant hammer,” she said. “I think it might have been an easier conduit or something? But they’re definitely it. I don’t understand, though; it was nearly three months at the castle and nobody ever came looking for it.”

“It’s good news for us, anyway,” Trevor said. “Any demons our forgemaster makes won’t be as powerful otherwise. Though we’d be taking his weapon right to him…” He rubbed his jaw. “And that’s not even getting into what we’ll do when we actually reach the castle.”

“Cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess,” Lucian said. Trevor handed her the coins back, and she studied them. “It’s kind of funny,” she said. “The symbols on them—an ankh, and I think it’s supposed to be the sun.”

“Ankh?”

“Egyptian symbol for life,” Lucian said. 

“Not exactly something you’d expect a forgemaster to have,” Trevor said. “Maybe it’s some kind of sick joke.”

Lucian’s fingers curled around the coins. “It seems like it,” she murmured. “Strange to think these might have been directly responsible for Mama and Gavril dying…”

“I’m sure Sypha would say something about revenge not being good for closure,” Trevor said, nudging her, “but when we find that bastard? He’s all yours.”

Lucian wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about that, but she nodded, dropping the coins back in her pouch. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to Styria?” 

“God, who knows?” Trevor said. “Two weeks, maybe? Though that’s just to get there, never mind finding their damn lair.”

“Alucard might know where it is,” Lucian said. “Especially if Carmilla used to be one of his father’s generals. And if nothing else, it’ll give Sypha something to keep her mind off of…” She nodded vaguely in the direction of the crater.

Trevor sighed. “How’re we going to help her _this_ time?” he asked. “Lucian, Lindenfeld was bad enough, but I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“Time,” Lucian said softly. “Time and giving her people to talk to. She needs _you_ , Trevor.”

“Me?” Skepticism coloured his voice. “I’m not exactly the best person at talking about feelings and shit, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Lucian’s hand covered his, and she squeezed it gently. “Yeah, but—whatever this thing is that the four of us have, you’re special to her,” she said. 

“Like Alucard is to you,” Trevor said, and Lucian’s cheeks pinked. He sighed, squeezing her hand back. “I’m just scared of getting it wrong. I’m used to this life—an endless string of failures and death. She’s not.”

“So help her through it,” Lucian said. “We all will, but I think she’s going to need you most.”

Trevor nodded. “No pressure or anything.”

“Nah, none at all.” Lucian lifted Kerberos off her lap and tucked him back beneath his blanket, hiding him from sight. “We’ll be back in the morning, sweetie.”

The tail poking out from beneath the blanket wagged in response.

* * *

Hector had been given a new warhammer, but without the coins to provide that guiding spark, he felt clumsy, like he was working blindfolded. Oh, his new night creatures were just as loyal as any others, of course, but they were little more than twisted, misshapen cannon fodder to be thrown in wave after wave at the Brotherhood, most of them never to return. 

The few that did told him of great bursts of light that vaporised their kin, knights wielding powers unlike any he’d ever heard of before. He wanted to keep that from the sisters, but Striga saw he was hiding something, and ordered him to tell her—and he had to obey.

When Hector informed Leon of this, the Belmont frowned, but nodded. “I suppose with the viewing mirror in their possession, it was only a matter of time before they learned that,” he said. “Tricky things to use; you need to know what you’re looking for before you can view it.”

Hector hummed out of polite disinterest as he cleaned the head of his hammer. One of the good things about having a forging workspace available to him: the stench of the dead and the demons was enough to cover Leon’s scent, giving them another safe place to meet. 

“I do appreciate the efforts you’ve been making to help,” Leon said, and Hector glanced up. “Making weaker night creatures has been letting us turn the tide. With any luck, God willing, we’ll be able to advance soon.”

“Mm. Yes,” Hector said. “And what about an attack on the castle?”

“We’re deep into Carmilla’s territory,” Leon said, his fangs poking out over his lower lip as he thought. “It will take some time to move that far, but if we can keep drawing out the guards…” He clapped Hector on the shoulder. “I think we’ll be preparing to make our move soon.”

* * *

Striga had taken over the sisters’ chambers. The enormous table in the centre was converted to a battle map, rows of wooden figures lined up to mark troops. Hector stole glances at it whenever he could, committing it to memory to draw out for Leon later. This was a bit more difficult than it sounded, seeing as he spent most of his time on the floor beside Lenore’s chair.

Striga laid a massive hand on the table, her talons biting into the map and tearing small holes in the parchment. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Their forces are _tiny_ , and yet they keep managing to outmanoeuvre us at every turn!”

“Honestly, what does your place as our general mean if you can’t overwhelm one ‘tiny’ group of humans?” Carmilla demanded. 

Striga hissed at her before Morana put a calming hand on her arm. 

“I think we’re all a little tense right now,” Lenore said, her fingers idly trailing through Hector’s hair. “Things will start to look better for us once we’ve gotten Hector’s hammer back and our troops will be bolstered with new night creatures. Carmilla? Has there been any word from our retrieval team?”

Carmilla sighed, resting her face against her hand. “They made it to the castle, all right, only to find it sealed up,” she said, and though Hector kept his head down, he smiled when he realised this would only serve to further delay things. “Our magicians are working on a way to break the wards now.”

“An annoying delay, but hopefully not for long,” Morana said. “Patience, love. We’ve dealt with greater threats than this before.”

Striga glanced over at Morana, and her face softened. “Of course,” she said, putting a hand over Morana’s. “I just feel like I’m missing something, just under our noses. A piece of the puzzle that I can’t see…”

Hidden out of her view, Hector’s smile widened.


	53. Chapter 53

Though Sypha was still rather subdued in the morning, some of the shock seemed to have worn off and she even offered to help Clara with breakfast. Rye bread toasted in the oven, a lump of goat cheese for everyone (which Lucian traded to Trevor for his bread), and as a special treat, sângerete, which Alucard ate with a faint smile on his face, much to his companions' amusement.

Elena insisted on sitting on Lucian’s lap for breakfast, for which her mother scolded her until Lucian said it was alright. It was a bit awkward trying to eat without dropping her food on the six year old, but Elena bouncing happily and telling Lucian all about her friend the butcher’s daughter brought a smile to her face.

“You sure we can’t compensate you?” Trevor asked as they were packing up the wagon. 

“Absolutely not,” Dorin said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Your angel gave me my leg and my life back,” Clara said, leaning into his touch. “It really was the least we could do.”

Trevor glanced over at Lucian, crouched on the ground beside the wagon and letting Elena teach her a hand clapping game, a smile on both their faces.

“You get those vampires for us!” Petre said, folding his arms and grinning. 

“Believe me,” Alucard said quietly, “we intend to.”

Clara stepped away from her husband to give Sypha a hug, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. “I don’t know what’s troubling you, love,” she said, “but I hope you’ll be able to find your peace.”

Sypha stiffened, then drew away. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and went to climb into the driver’s seat.

Dorin clasped hands with Trevor. “Safe travels, son,” he said, and Trevor grinned. 

“I’m sure they won’t be, but that’s never stopped us.” 

Lucian gave Elena a quick hug before climbing into the wagon after Alucard, and Trevor took his place next to Sypha, urging the horses to move. 

“Clara?” a woman gasped when she came out of the house holding a clay chamber pot. “Your leg?!”

Clara laughed and ran to greet her, and the woman hastily set the chamber pot down before catching her in a hug.

Lucian waved out the back of the wagon as their voices faded into the distance.

“She called you a saint,” Alucard said suddenly, amusement in his voice.

Lucian snorted. “Yep, that’s me,” she said, tugging the blanket a little farther over Kerberos’ head. “Saint Lucian. Sorry, boy,” she added to the pug. “Not until we’re out of the city.”

“If you’re a saint, I’ll eat my whip,” Trevor added over his shoulder. 

“You would not,” Sypha said, leaning her head on his shoulder, and he tugged her closer to his side. 

“My boots, then.”

“Perhaps in a drunken stupor where you mistook their reek for the sort of swill you normally consume,” Alucard said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Tell me, Alucard, how were the blood sausages this morning?”

“Delicious. I might even consider using some of yours to replicate them, since it’s the next closest thing to pig’s blood we’ll find on the road.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Sypha said as they passed back over the river, heading west. “You are what you eat.”

Trevor swung around to look at her, and Alucard began to chuckle softly, Lucian stifling a giggle against her sleeve. 

“I expected this sort of behaviour from Trevor, but coming from you?” Alucard asked.

Sypha shrugged, smiling faintly as she turned in her seat to look at Alucard. “You boys always seemed to enjoy bantering. I wanted to see what it was like.”

Alucard sighed theatrically. “Ganging up on me, now, is that it? At least Lucian has my back.”

“She called you a pig,” Lucian said helpfully.

“Yes, I got that, thank you.”

Trevor smirked. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. So, Pig—where are we headed?”

“Styria.”

“No shit. I meant where in Styria?”

Alucard dug out their map, studying it for a moment. “I never travelled there before in the normal way, mind,” he said. “Father would move the castle there if he had business to conduct with Carmilla and the council.”

“Council?” Sypha asked. 

Alucard nodded. “Carmilla likes to keep a council with three more other powerful vampires—sisters, she calls them, though Carmilla’s word is final. Their castle is somewhere in the mountains…” He studied the map, tapping a finger over a mountain range. “The castle is somewhere in the _Nizke Ture_ range; I remember Father pointing out Geierhaupt in the distance.”

“Do you remember the direction?” Lucian asked, and Alucard hesitated, shaking his head.

“That was over a decade ago,” he said, rolling up the map.

“It’s a starting point, though,” Sypha said. “What would we do without you, Alucard?”

Something cold wrapped around his chest, and he looked away. “You seemed to do just fine before.”

Sypha’s expression shuttered, and she turned back around to face the front, falling silent.

The air seemed to suddenly grow thick with tension before Lucian shifted in her seat, Kerberos on her lap. “So… I asked Trevor last night, but he didn’t know—”

“Unsurprising,” Alucard said immediately.

“Piss off, you don’t even know what she was going to say.”

“—so I wanted to ask you and Sypha,” Lucian said, raising her voice a little before Alucard could start with the insults again. “Um—if you knew what happened to night creatures if the weapon used to forge them was destroyed.”

“Their bond to their master is broken,” Alucard said. “Without it, they revert to mindless, directionless beasts, just as likely to kill their makers as anything else.”

“Why do you ask?” Sypha said from the front.

Trevor let out a huff of amusement. “You guys are going to love this.”

Lucian swallowed, but fished the coins from her pouch and handed them over to Alucard. Kerberos’ head shot up and he bounded across the wagon to follow them.

Alucard took one look at the coins, then at the pug, before his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “You have his weapon.”

Sypha twisted around in her seat to stare.

“They were embedded in that hammer on the altar,” Lucian said. “Kerberos led me to it, and I… took them.”

“I overlooked it,” Alucard hissed, his hand closing around the coins. “Dismissed it as a secondary tool—what forgemaster would leave his weapon behind?”

“Believe me, we’ve been asking ourselves the same questions,” Trevor said tiredly.

Lucian scoffed and folded her arms. “We? I told you last night.”

She heard a sharp intake of air, and turned to Sypha, who was looking at her with such hurt Lucian wanted to sink through the floor of the wagon. “You’ve been keeping this from us?”

“I—” Lucian stuttered, her arms falling to her sides. “I just wanted to get answers for myself—”

“Lucian, we could have helped—”

“I thought you’d want to get rid of them and kill Kerberos!” 

“It wouldn’t have, and you’d have known this if you’d just asked!”

“I was scared!” Lucian reached out for Sypha’s hand, but Sypha drew away from her. “Sypha, please, I’m telling you guys now because we need to know what we’re going to be dealing with!”

Sypha folded her arms, turning to look forwards—turning her back on Lucian.

“Sypha…?”

A slight turn of Sypha’s head—she didn’t want to hear it.

Lucian looked desperately to Alucard, who pursed his lips and handed the coins back to her. “I think you should hold on to these.”

Her fingers closed over his hand, but he drew away. Her heart plummeted.

“We’ll keep them intact until we find the forgemaster,” Alucard said, crossing his arms and glancing up at Trevor. “The dog can lead us to him. I suppose in the meantime we should be grateful the forces we’ll be facing won’t be as strong.”

Lucian huddled against the side of the wagon, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head to cover her face, hugging Kerberos. Her cheeks burned with shame.

Stupid. Stupid of her to think they would have accepted the revelation. She’d been hiding this from them, and it wasn’t something to be easily brushed off. 

She’d known what she was doing. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

The silence in the wagon spoke volumes.

* * *

Trevor opted to set them on a course first for Brașov in Transylvania. Alucard joined him in the driver’s seat and the pair kept their heads together, discussing what Alucard could remember of the castle and how they were going to pull this off.

Sypha sat in the back with Lucian, flipping through the pages of the bestiary she’d taken from the hold. Occasionally, she would glance up at the priest, who’d been silent for ages save for the steadily increasing string of _fft-ffts_ as she jittered, getting more restless by the hour.

Lucian started to nod off again, but when the swirl of pink and green flashed behind her eyelids, she sat up with a gasp, causing Kerberos to yelp and tumble off her chest where he’d been curled up.

“Sorry, Rosi!” Lucian said, gathering him up and showering him with kisses. She became aware of Sypha’s eyes on her and glanced up before quickly looking away.

“...Lucian,” Sypha said, setting the book aside, “you haven’t been keeping anything else from us, have you?”

“ _No!_ ” Lucian said, and then frantically wracked her brains while she tried to think. What if there was something she was forgetting? “N-no,” she stuttered. “I don’t think so, but—”

Remembering the Infinite Corridor to Hell, and the pair of girls she’d seen with the strong resemblance to Trevor, came to mind, and she flinched. 

“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Okay, Trevor I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to say if I was wrong because I don’t know what your sisters looked like but when I was in Hell I thought I saw your sisters but I didn’t want to say anything in case I was wrong and I didn’t want to upset you and I am _so sorry_ —”

Trevor twisted to look at her as she babbled, his expression unreadable. “ _Shit_ ,” he said, cutting her off. “Yeah, on that one? Now all I’m going to do is wonder. But if that’s the worst of it—Sypha, can’t you let it go?”

“I…” Sypha looked torn, glancing between Trevor and Lucian, who was hugging Kerberos tightly. “I know they say it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, but…”

“Were you ever planning on telling us?” Alucard asked quietly from the front. He remained unnaturally still on the seat, not deigning to look at Lucian.

“I was,” Lucian said desperately. “I was just scared, I thought you would hurt Kerberos if you knew! A-and… besides, it worked out, didn’t it? If we’d got rid of the coins, he wouldn’t be loyal to his master and we wouldn’t be able to find him?”

Alucard sighed. “Just because it worked out in our favour doesn’t just excuse it,” he said, and Lucian wished he’d raise his voice, _anything_ but keep speaking in that soft tone. “You lied to us about this.”

“I—Alucard, I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

* * *

They dispatched yet another band of roaming night creatures with ease mid-afternoon, eventually making camp near Niculești. Though sleeping in a warm bed would have been good, the village was really little more than a hamlet, and the four of them together would have drawn far too much attention. 

Lucian drew away from the others as they worked, thinking maybe she would find them a source of water so that Sypha wouldn’t have to keep conjuring ice and melting it for them. She left her belt pouch in the wagon so Kerberos would stay where it was safe, curled up on top of the coins to protect them.

She didn’t make it far, though, before she found herself sitting against a tree, hood pulled up and cloak tight around her shoulders, crying quietly. She’d hurt both of them, but Alucard even more so. The last time somebody he trusted lied to him, he’d been betrayed— _they’d_ been betrayed. Even though she’d never intended to hurt them, she didn’t blame them for being angry.

_She hated herself._

Soft footsteps made her look up to see Trevor kneeling in front of her, and he drew her hood back before cupping her face, pulling her in for a kiss.

His calloused hands were surprisingly gentle, even though his mouth was hot and wet against hers, and _immensely_ distracting. When he drew back, Lucian lifted a tentative hand, brushing her thumb over his cheek, over the lower half of the scar that cut across his eye. 

“You’re… not mad at me?”

Trevor made a face—not quite a grimace, but more like he was thinking about it. “I’m not exactly thrilled you hid it from us,” he said at long last. “That you didn't tell me about my sisters—"

"I didn't know it was them," Lucian protested quietly. "I still don't—I just know they looked like you, Trevor—I didn't want to tell you when I wasn't sure—"

Trevor sighed. "Like you said, you didn't know it was them," he said quietly. " _I_ don't know it was them. But with everything else happening, you didn't want to risk hiding it if they were." He traced a hand over the curve of her cheekbone. "Fucking—mess, all around, isn't it?"

Lucian nodded miserably. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "If I just told you about the coins..."

"I get why you didn't, especially with how much that fucking dog means to you.”

“So… you’re saying after his forgemaster’s dead…?” Lucian said hopefully, and Trevor groaned. 

“ _Fine,_ ” he said. “You can keep the stupid dog.” At Lucian’s look, he sighed. “Kerberos, then.”

Lucian threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” she said quietly, and he hugged her back, though he rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, though,” Trevor said, and she drew back, “if we’re going to work together as a team? You can’t hide shit like that from us again.”

“I know,” Lucian said, hanging her head.

Trevor tipped her chin back up. “You meant well,” he said. “Can’t really stay mad about that, can I?”

“I mean, you _could_ ,” Lucian mumbled, and Trevor laughed, a deep rumble in his chest.

“Okay, I _could_ , but there’s a lot more stuff I’d rather get mad about than you trying to protect your freaky dog.”

“He’s not—” Lucian caught Trevor’s look. “...Okay, yes, he’s missing an eye and all the flesh from one leg, but—Trevor, come on, he’s really just the same as any other dog.”

Trevor shook his head. “Whenever he’s apart from his master, anyway,” he said. “Don’t know if you were listening in today?” Lucian lifted one shoulder in a shrug, so he continued. “We’re thinking when we find the castle, we’ll tie a leash to it— _him_ ,” he said before Lucian could protest. “Let _him_ take us to his maker, kill the forgemaster, and slip back out. Once the night creatures’ numbers in the area start to dwindle, we can take on the vampires.”

“We’re not going to storm the castle like we did Dracula’s?” Lucian asked, and Trevor snorted and shook his head.

“Dracula’s forces were already decimated between the holy water and whatever civil war that happened,” he said. “We’ll be facing an admittedly-weakened forgemaster’s minions and the vampire forces of Styria. It won’t be nearly as easy.”

“ _Easy?_ ” Lucian said, a hand going up to her collarbone where the puncture scars from Dracula’s claws remained, as red and angry as ever.

“Yeah,” Trevor said, meeting her gaze. “That was an _easy_ fight.”

“... _Fuck._ ”

Trevor laughed softly, sitting next to her and drawing his cloak around her despite the warmth of her own. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Between the four of us, I’m sure we’ll come up with something.”

Lucian twisted around to look at him. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Terrified,” Trevor said, and gave her a wry smile. “Can’t let that get in our way, you know? Not when there’s lives on the line, _again_.”

Her appraising look made him groan, glancing away from her.

“I seem to recall, back when we first met,” Lucian said, “you expressing a desire to watch the slaughter of Gresit from a tree and move on in your wanderings.”

“Shut up.”

“You’ve changed, Trevor Belmont,” Lucian said, cupping his cheek. “Living up to your family legacy and everything.”

Trevor rolled his eyes, hoping that in the dimming light, it was too dark to see his reddening face. “Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect.”

“You’re… I dunno how to describe it,” Lucian said. “But it’s like you’re… more at peace, now. You’re not so bitter as before.”

“And you’ve gotten more bitter,” Trevor said, and Lucian’s mouth slammed shut. “It’s because of… what happened, isn’t it—? Your death.”

Lucian looked away. “I don’t know if it’s… bitter,” she said at long last.

“Less trusting, then.”

A sharp, harsh laugh. “Like I was so trusting to begin with?”

“To anyone who wasn’t outright cruel to you? Yeah,” Trevor said. “Look.” His hand tightened on her shoulder. “They pretended to be your friends, and when shit went to Hell—you stopped talking to us. Might not’ve meant it intentionally, but even _I_ noticed the difference. You’re scared to share with us, and Alucard’s scared to find out you’ve been keeping secrets. I’m shit with feelings, but come on, at least take a page out of your own book and talk to him? Isn’t that what you always said we should do?”

“I hate you,” Lucian grumbled.

“You love me,” Trevor said, and in an echo of that evening on the castle steps, Lucian smiled.

“Yeah,” she said, and leaned in. “I… yeah. I do.”

Trevor pressed her back against the tree trunk, and Lucian went willingly, even so far as to let him pin her wrists above her head as he kissed her. It was nowhere near being trapped on her back, arms stretched to the sides—this was _Trevor_ , and his touch was gentle despite his eagerness, Lucian melting against him when he pressed up against her, astride her hips. His free hand tangled in her shaggy hair to tilt her head better into his kiss.

“For a priest, you’re amazingly good at this,” Trevor murmured against her lips, and Lucian’s breath caught. 

“For a wandering drunk, you’re not too bad yourself?”

Trevor drew back, giving her an appraising look. “You’ll judge me, but I wasn’t exactly a stranger to falling into bed with whatever barmaid or shepherdess who showed an interest,” he said, his tone dry.

Lucian paused. “I mean… I’m not surprised?” she said. “Not in a bad way,” she hastened to add, when Trevor snorted. “I just—it sounds… lonely,” she continued softly, and her hands knitted in his hair. 

“It was,” Trevor said softly, his own hands settling at her waist. “Didn’t really have a lot of alternatives, though.”

“I can imagine,” Lucian said. “I _can_ ,” she insisted at Trevor’s look. “I was so worried about maintaining the charade that I—I mean, I never—you know, before Alucard, but I definitely imagined, a _lot_.”

Trevor laughed against her mouth before pulling her into another kiss. “Anyone else after?” he asked when he drew away. “Sypha, maybe?”

“Like she wouldn’t have told you,” Lucian said dryly, and Trevor snorted. “But… no. Not yet, anyway.”

Trevor’s hand dipped to the neck of her shirt, fingers brushing just under the collar—high and peaked, not dissimilar to his, though with a much lower cut that only just showed off the crossed brands that covered her chest. His fingers brushed over them, and Lucian caught his hand, Trevor stilling and letting her move his hand higher to her collarbone.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Just… don’t like people touching there.”

Trevor dipped his head, kissing the side of her neck just below her ear, and Lucian shivered beneath him. 

“I don’t want to hide them,” she said, her voice faint. “But… I don’t want it to be an invitation, either.”

“I’ll avoid them, then,” he said, and his hands tugged her tunic up out of her waist sash, hands finding their way to her hips.

“ _Ah!_ ” Lucian gasped, and he paused, drawing back. 

“Alright?” he asked, his voice hesitant, and Lucian nodded. 

“Just—it’s— _good_ ,” she said faintly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Trevor said, and nipped at her collarbone. “Just wanted to check.”

Lucian melted into his touch, and when Trevor pulled her tunic off her and tossed it aside, she fell back onto the grass, giving herself over to him completely.


	54. Chapter 54

It was a good thing Alucard and Sypha were fluent in Hungarian, or else trying to question their way through the country would have been a good deal harder. Though, occasionally, they would run into somebody who spoke Latin, or knew someone who did, and at that point Lucian would take over, her soft demeanor serving to get more people to open up than Alucard’s cold aloofness or Sypha being… overwhelmingly Sypha.

And meanwhile, Trevor felt fucking _useless._

Still—Lucian being fluent in Latin didn’t exactly help when most of the locals didn’t speak it, and more often than not she’d end up sitting and drinking at a table with him, their heads down while Sypha and Alucard asked around.

Lucian had been right about Sypha needing a distraction to pull away from her distress, Trevor thought one night when he kissed the back of the sleeping Speaker’s neck after she woke up from a nightmare. He knew it was still eating away at her, what had happened in Braila, but she was at the very least smiling again. 

And as far as he was concerned, it was a start.

They still couldn’t seem to settle on a sleeping arrangement in the wagon, but most nights seemed to find her in his arms, and Alucard in Lucian’s. The dhampir never slept in a middle position, Trevor noted—and held him all the closer whenever they ended up next to each other. He’d never say it out loud, but he was sure his actions spoke for how much he’d grown to care for Alucard.

And slowly, they made their way west across Hungary, stopping in the towns they encountered along the way but never staying. A repeat of Lindenfeld aside—they had a vampire council to defeat.

* * *

They found the horses near Dunaújváros. Or, rather, what was left of them. Eighty of the poor beasts, reduced to rotting corpses, nearly all of them still with the arrows that killed them sticking up from the bloated, putrid bodies. Quite a few of them had ruptured mid-decay, blackened organs spilling out onto the grass.

“What happened here?” Lucian whispered, staring in horror as they climbed out of the wagon.

“Looks like a battle,” Trevor said.

Alucard snorted. “You are as perceptive as ever, aren’t you?”

Trevor flipped him off without looking.

“Black and white,” Sypha said, gingerly poking a toe at the armor draped over the flanks of one of the horses’ bodies. 

“The livery of Styria,” Alucard said. He turned, watching Lucian out of the corner of his eye as she knelt next to one of the horses, murmuring a quiet blessing even as she gingerly touched the muzzle of the beast. 

“ _Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat—_ ”

Lucian yelled and fell back when the horse climbed to its feet, its coat glossy and muscles rippling beneath its skin, as vibrant as it ever was in life. The horse shook itself, nickered, and nudged her face before galloping off, mane and tail streaming in its wake, leaving them staring after it in shock.

"That... that was," Sypha said, and trailed off, the Speaker lost for words.

“Your powers have officially gone from weird to freaky,” Trevor declared.

Almost in slow motion, Lucian tipped over backwards, Alucard darting over to catch her before her head hit the ground. He knew Trevor would give him shit about forgiving her later, but he hefted Lucian into his arms and carried her back to the wagon, laying her out as Kerberos sniffed concernedly at her prone form.

"Is she alright?" Sypha asked anxiously. 

He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and sighed with relief when Lucian drew in a shuddering breath, though her eyes stayed closed, flickering frantically beneath her eyelids.

"She's fine," he said. "Merely sleeping."

Alucard knew she’d meant no ill will, hiding the coins from them. And he knew—he _knew_ she wouldn’t hide anything from them out of malice. Hell, her hiding the coins had been because of her attachment to that blasted dog. 

It was really more the fact she’d been able to hide something from him at all. Alucard knew people were allowed to have their secrets, but finding out Lucian was deliberately hiding something huge from him left him rattled—shaken.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like feeling out of control.

“Guess this means we’re headed the right direction,” Trevor said, clapping Alucard on the shoulder, and he flinched at the sudden touch.

There wasn’t much else they could do, unless they wanted to waste ages taking care of the eighty—seventy-nine—bodies. So the wagon moved on, and Alucard sat next to Lucian, pulling her head onto his lap and supporting her against his thigh as he sat cross-legged, looking out the back over the road.

Alucard stared down at her face, relaxed in sleep in a way he never saw while awake. He still remembered that moment in the Belmont Hold when she’d tried to heal him and fallen unconscious for it—even then, she’d been earnest, strangely optimistic despite her jadedness. 

He wondered when she’d stopped trusting, if it had happened before _them._

It was several hours before Lucian’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled faintly up at him. It looked nervous. “Hey.”

He kissed her, his hair falling around them like a curtain. When he lifted his head, Lucian grinned tiredly at him.

“You’re not still mad at me?” 

Alucard pursed his lips. “I am,” he said at last. “But sulking like a child isn’t going to fix things. You meant well and did tell us, so… I’ll not begrudge you that.”

“Thank you,” Lucian said quietly. “Alucard, I’m so sor—”

He silenced her with another kiss. “I know.”

* * *

“Hector!” 

Carmilla barged into his workshop, the door banging off the wall when she threw it open. He turned, startled, as she strode over to him.

“Whatever you’re doing with that body, there’s been a change of plans,” Carmilla said, snapping her fingers at him. “Make me the swiftest night creatures you can and send them to Hungary.”

“Of… course,” Hector said slowly. She looked disheveled, not at all put together or calm. “Is this about the Brotherhood?”

“I _wish_ it was something as simple as that.” Carmilla walked around the stone altar, her long red talons scratching the surface. “One of the horses we lost on the march here came back.”

Hector frowned. “Came—back?”

“To Styria, from the dead, take your pick.” Carmilla’s talons bit into the stone. “Came galloping up to the castle, covered in sores from its armour, but it was definitely alive.”

The frown deepened. “So it wasn’t the work of another forgemaster?”

“No, you stupid, pathetic man,” Carmilla snapped. She took a deep breath and straightened up, smoothing her hair back. “I asked the mirror to show me who was responsible. Some boy with your little mutt, and he’s travelling with a Speaker, the Belmont, and Dracula’s son.”

“You think they’re coming here,” Hector said, his tone carefully neutral—though his heart leapt at the news. 

“Why else would they be practically on our doorstep?” Carmilla said. “I want them _gone_ , Hector, do you hear me? Were they to reach the castle, I would be having to worry about attacks from two different fronts. It will be _your_ head if that happens!”

“Understood,” Hector said, though she was already stalking to the door. He allowed himself a smile.

Interesting. _Very_ interesting. This might just be the distraction he and Leon needed.

Hector turned back to the body and raised the hammer.

Carmilla had ordered he make the swiftest creatures he could. She hadn’t said anything about not making them weak.

* * *

Leon was of course delighted with the news—and at the thought of meeting one of his descendants.

“Though I’m not entirely sure he’d be pleased to see me, with my current… condition,” Leon added, looking down at his hands. “It’s been long enough I’m sure that my blood has diluted; I don’t expect the stories to have survived.”

Hector stared, then began to laugh. “The great Belmont Clan, famed monster hunters—descended from a vampire?”

“A certain irony to be had, isn’t it?” Leon smiled, though it looked bitter. “Twenty generations is a long time to forget.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the stories died out with the rest of them,” Hector said. 

Leon looked horrified. “What?”

“They— _oh,_ ” Hector breathed, his stomach dropping. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew…”

Leon leaned against the altar, his arms trembling, head bowed. “What happened?”

“The church,” Hector said, uncertain of what to do, what words of comfort to offer him. “They burned the manor and killed nearly everyone. As far as I know, the one coming to the castle is the only survivor.”

A drop of blood fell from Leon’s face to the altar, landing with a quiet splat that seemed strangely loud in the otherwise silent room. Then another, his shoulders beginning to shake, the tears coming in earnest. 

Hector mutely offered him the cleanest of the rags he used to wipe down his hammer, and Leon took it, hiding his face against the cloth that grew steadily more soaked with blood.

“If he’s anything like a proper Belmont, your night creatures should be easy enough for him to dispatch,” Leon said at long last, and Hector sensed he wanted to move on. “And this boy you mentioned—I think you may have just solved something that had been troubling me for some time.”

“While it introduces new questions, for me,” Hector said, folding his arms. “I’ve never heard of any sort of magic that can properly bring things back from the dead.”

Leon pushed his hair out of his face. “I… have,” he said, straightening up and setting the bloodied rag aside. “I believe the boy might be what’s called a living relic—a literal miracle worker. Which would be potentially _very_ bad for the council.” He smiled humourlessly, torchlight glinting off his fangs. “It would be a shame if they made it to the castle, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Hector agreed with a faint smile. 

“We’ll make our move when they do.” Leon held out his hand, and Hector clasped it. “I have to take this news back to my cohorts. Victory is within our reach; it won’t be long now.”

He turned to go.

“Leon.”

He paused in the doorway, but didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry about your family,” Hector said softly.

Leon bowed his head. “As am I.”

Hector watched him go before turning back to the altar.

He had work to do.


	55. Chapter 55

It was while they were camped on the way to Graz that the gargoyles attacked.

Lucian was the first one awake, the familiar tingle of magic playing just at the edge of her senses. “Guys,” she said, rolling out of the blankets and climbing over Alucard, grabbing her spear and expanding it. “We’ve got incoming.”

The other three had barely climbed out of the wagon before a dark, winged shape flew by at an incredible speed, talons sinking into Lucian’s chest and carrying her off with a scream.

“Fuck!” Trevor hurled the Morning Star after it, but the speed at which the gargoyle flew left Trevor missing the mark. 

Sypha conjured a fireball and launched it into the sky, her eyes going wide at the flock that was descending on them. Alucard’s sword flew from its sheath, and he and the sword rose to meet the night creatures.

A bright flash of light from above as Lucian vaporised the one holding her, and she fell before she managed to catch herself, healed by the time she landed on the ground.

“These things are fast!” she gasped, retrieving her spear. 

“Can you do that aura again?” Sypha asked, directing a cluster of icicles at the front ranks. Several gargoyles fell to the ground, and Lucian vaporised them. 

“Alucard’s right in the middle, I might hit him,” she said desperately. 

Trevor sprinted forward, hurling the Morning Star at another one of the beasts. The chain wrapped around it and it screeched, lifting him off the ground as it tried to escape. He used the momentum to swing at another gargoyle, drawing his sword and cutting it down in midair. 

Alucard and his sword were a whirlwind of death, moving independently of one another and yet managing to fight in perfect synchronicity. 

Despite the monsters’ speed, they fell one by one, twisted winged forms landing in sprays of blood and accompanied by the horrible sounds of bones crunching on impact. Alucard’s sword decapitated the last one, severing its head from its body with so much force the head was sent flying to land somewhere in the woods out of sight.

He alighted on the ground, lightly touching the bloodied puncture marks in Lucian’s shirt with an odd look on his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she was shaken. They’d been shallow wounds, nothing nearly as severe as what _they_ did—

Lucian shook herself. “I should take care of the bodies,” she said, drawing away to do just that.

“I’ve never seen gargoyles move that quickly before,” Sypha said, frowning as she looked out over the bloody corpses, squinting against the bright flashes from Lucian’s hands. 

“Carmilla’s pet forgemaster’s getting creative,” Trevor said, grudgingly impressed. “I’m glad you’ve got those coins, Luce,” he added. “Wouldn’t fancy seeing what this guy could do at full power.”

“You remember those night creatures that attacked the hold?” Lucian called, looking up from her work.

“Ye— _shit._ ” Trevor re-coiled the Morning Star, affixing it to his belt. “That was his work, huh?”

Alucard hummed thoughtfully. “When we get closer to the castle, we should see about keeping at least one of their bodies—vampires have an extraordinarily keen sense of smell.”

“But the forgemaster’s night creatures will smell like they belong in the castle,” Sypha said, understanding dawning on her face. “So if _we_ smelled like the night creatures—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Trevor said, holding up his hands and fixing Alucard with a hard stare. “You want us to rub bits of dead demon on us before sneaking into the castle?”

“Unless you have a better idea,” Alucard said cooly.

Trevor smirked. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea; it’s great, actually. I just thought you’d be too fussy to ruin that pretty hair of yours.”

Alucard’s smirk could have mirrored his. “What I’m getting out of this is that you think I’m pretty.”

“Piss off, we all know you know you are,” Trevor said.

“He’s not wrong,” Sypha said, though she gently elbowed Trevor. 

Lucian rejoined them, yawning. “I am _not_ going looking for that last one’s head in the dark,” she said, her eyelids drooping. “M’goin’ back to sleep,” she mumbled, and climbed into the wagon, bundling herself back under the blankets and lifting an arm so Kerberos could curl under her chin. Moments later, she was snoring quietly.

Trevor pursed his lips. “I have no idea how she does that,” he muttered.

“Miracles?” Sypha asked lightly. “She’s got the right idea, though; I was in the middle of a _nice_ dream for once, and I’d like to get back to it.”

Trevor caught her arm as she went past him; she paused, then smiled and stepped in closer for a kiss. 

Alucard let his fingers trail across Trevor’s back before moving past them to join Lucian, stepping over her so he’d be on the end.

It wasn’t until he’d started drifting off to sleep that his eyes opened again, and he sat up when he realised what was bothering him.

For all the gargoyles they had dispatched, it had been far too easy of a fight, even for night creatures made by a weakened forgemaster. The new speed had thrown them momentarily at the start, but once they had a chance to adjust—

Alucard scrunched his eyes shut and lay back down, throwing an arm over his face. 

* * *

The higher they travelled into the _Nizke Ture_ mountains, the colder it got. Sypha conjured little balls of fire for them to huddle around and keep warm; the only one who didn’t seem affected by the bitter winds was Alucard, and so Trevor insisted he be the one to sit out in the cold to drive while the rest of them remained huddled in the back for warmth. 

Sypha assured Lucian that despite their thinner coats, the horses would be fine with the cold as long as they had blankets at night. Sypha had been working with horses all her life, so her words reassured Lucian—though she still spent time with the beasts in the evenings, talking to them, stroking their muzzles. 

And wondering what had become of the horse from Styria.

“Why can’t vampires make their homes in _warm_ climates?” Lucian complained one evening after another night creature attack. She drew her hood back up, which had fallen off in the fighting, teeth chattering.

“Warmer climates _do_ tend to be sunnier,” Alucard said dryly. “I don’t imagine anybody would want to live someplace where their outside hours are severely reduced.”

Sypha pressed up against Trevor, and he wrapped his cloak around the both of them. “It’s a good deterrent for unwanted visitors, too,” she said. “If we didn’t have a job to do—I know I wouldn’t be up here, that’s for sure.”

“Well, I have good news for you,” Alucard said, pointing towards the next rise they would have to crest. “I saw Geierhaupt just beyond that next rise. We’re nearly there.”

* * *

Hector knew the time was drawing near. The wait was agony, but he bided his time, listening as Carmilla got more frantic—and angrier with him as the Belmont’s group came ever closer to the castle. He had his own reports from the night creatures who returned to him, and when one poor gargoyle with holes in its wings told him that they were using the body of one of its brethren to disguise their scents, he knew.

Lenore would be busy with her sisters. He wouldn’t have to worry about a visit from her tonight. 

It took some straining, but Hector snapped the leg off his desk chair and began whittling it down to a point. Lenore was fast. He’d find a way to be faster.

Except, Lenore _wasn’t_ busy with her sisters. He heard the doorknob turn and, realising he was out of options, hid the knife and stake beneath the pillow and kicked the wood shavings beneath the bed a second before Lenore was there, smiling sweetly.

The sight of it made his skin crawl.

“I thought you had a meeting tonight,” Hector said, looking away as Lenore approached the bed. 

“I did,” Lenore agreed. “It got cut short when Carmilla threw a glass and yelled at everybody to get out. I’ll make sure she’s okay later, but I thought I’d come relieve some of the stress with my favourite…” A single, sharp talon hooked into the neck of his shirt. “... _toy._ ”

Hector’s breath hitched as Lenore leaned in to kiss him—and then she stopped an inch from his face, sniffing.

“I smell wood shavings,” she said suspiciously, and his blood turned to ice. “Have you been carving something, Hector?”

“I thought I’d try my hand at whittling,” he said, glancing away.

Lenore pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose you’d like to show me your little whittling project?”

“It’s… a surprise.”

“Oh, Hector,” Lenore said, her talons digging into his cheek, leaving four pinpricks of blood. “You really are a terrible liar. Tell me. _Now._ ”

He held out for as long as he could, screaming his throat hoarse until he was left convulsing on the floor. “A stake!” he gasped out, and instantly, the pain stopped. 

Lenore began to laugh, and pushing him aside from where he’d fallen, ripped the pillow away, picking up the stake and twirling it between her fingers. “You know you can’t kill me, right?” she said, tossing it carelessly aside. “My spell won’t allow you to. Unless…” Her eyes narrowed and she knelt next to him, grabbing his face and tilting it up so he was forced to look at her. “You had some sort of plan you thought would get you free, is that it?”

“ _No—_ ” 

“Tell me _everything._ ”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t, he mustn’t—

The pain was so intense the world went white. Hector howled, clawing at his own chest, trying to tear it out of him, anything to make it stop. 

He knew how to make it stop.

And he told her, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush at first until the torture subsided, then as slowly as he could manage, trying to delay. Leon would never forgive him if they survived this.

Lenore merely listened, her face impassive, head tilted almost comically quizzically to the side. She began to laugh when Hector finally fell silent, clapped her hands together, and stood up. 

“Striga will be pleased to finally have the answer as to why her planning wasn’t as effective as she’d hoped,” she said. “The little puppy, spying for a Belmont all along—Leon at that! I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Hector kept his eyes down, anger and shame warring inside him. His chest felt tight.

“I’ll take this information to my sisters,” Lenore said, drawing her cloak primly around herself. “In the meantime, you’re not to move an inch from that spot, do you hear me? You can dwell on what my sisters will want to do to you when they learn of your treachery.”

Hector didn’t respond.

Lenore bared her fangs. “ _Do you understand?_ Answer me!” 

“...Yes.”

“You’ve been a very bad dog, Hector. It’s only right you be punished. Severely.” Lenore smiled suddenly and ruffled his hair. “Well, this has been fun, hasn’t it? Ta.”

She swept from the room, and Hector huddled against the bed, dread curling like a snake in his stomach.

The stake lay on the floor out of reach where it had been tossed aside.

* * *

“If I stink of night creature because of this, I’m pushing you into the next lake we find.”

“Please, Belmont,” Alucard hissed back, “like you cared so much about what you smelled like before.”

“Can you boys stop bickering for five seconds?” Sypha hissed, peeking over the low ridge they’d taken refuge behind. 

The four of them were smeared liberally with gargoyle blood, Lucian scratching away at her arms and face to try to minimize the sting of unholy energy seeping into her skin.

“I swear I’m going to get a rash from this,” she muttered, tightening her grip on Kerberos’ leash. The pug quivered in anticipation, ear perked and eye focused intently in the direction of the castle. 

“We can worry about that later,” Trevor said. He cast a glance toward the faint rays of sunlight beginning to creep over the horizon. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

Alucard gave a curt nod. “We’ll give it half an hour after the guards retreat inside,” he said. “After that—” He froze, then drew his sword. “Someone’s approaching,” he said, lowering his voice. 

Trevor reached for the Morning Star. “How many?” 

“At least twenty.”

“ _Shit._ ”

Sypha summoned a lance of ice to her hands, stood, and hurled it over the ridge at the captain leading the formation of vampire guards. It impaled the vampire through her helmet, and she fell to the ground as the others broke into yells, rushing forward.

Kerberos began barking, straining against his leash, as a loud screeching from the sky announced the presence of more gargoyles. 

“SHIT!” Trevor swung the Morning Star in a wide arc at the front line, his other hand yanking one of his consecrated throwing knives from the straps on his chest. He hurled it at one of the gargoyles, and it swelled and exploded, lighting up the sky.

Alucard leapt into the fray, sword at his side, and Lucian found herself alone when Sypha launched herself into the air on jets of fire to meet the gargoyles.

Without both hands her spear was useless; with her magic, she risked hurting Alucard or killing Kerberos. This wasn’t a matter of attachment anymore, but a matter of finding the forgemaster—

A guard lunged at her with a pike and Lucian yelped, dancing to the side, then threw herself flat to avoid a gargoyle’s raking talons. 

The leash slipped from her grasp, and Kerberos went darting across the lawn as fast as his tiny legs could carry him—which was terrifyingly fast. 

Heart in her mouth, and trusting her friends would be able to handle themselves, Lucian ducked and wove through the fighting, using her collapsed spear to slash at any vampires that got too close until she was out of the fighting and sprinting at full tilt across the lawn, up the hill, a stitch in her side, trying to keep her eye on the black pug against the dark grass. 

Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of his glowing blue eye and redouble her efforts, wheezing. 

Kerberos led her not to the castle, but behind it, skirting a narrow ledge that Lucian decided not to try running on. She leapt into the air, sprinting across the sheer drop below her feet that left her head swimming with sudden vertigo. 

The pug led her to an outbuilding, a stone construction the size of a wealthy merchant’s cottage, and began scrabbling at the door, whining. Lucian landed next to Kerberos and grabbed the leash, doubling over to catch her breath.

“...Cezar?” a soft voice said from inside, and the pug barked joyously, tail wagging.

The coins in her belt pouch suddenly felt a hundred times heavier as Lucian hesitated, then twisted the knob, letting the door swing open. 

A silver-haired young man dressed in a silk shirt and fine trousers, and knee-high boots of supple leather sat on the floor against a magnificent bed, four pinpricks of blood on his face. He stared in amazement at the pug. “Cezar!”

Cezar barked and strained against the rope until Lucian let it slip from numb fingers. 

Cezar bounded across the floor, barking, and leapt at his master, who caught him with a startled laugh. Cezar licked every inch of his face he could reach, tail wagging furiously enough it seemed like it might fly off.

“You’re okay!” Hector said delightedly, holding Cezar out to examine him. “I hoped, but…” He looked up at the slender figure standing in the doorway, covered in demon blood, and his expression was suddenly guarded. “You must be the relic.”

He wondered if the coins were still in the belt pouch. If he was so close, yet so far from freedom. His heart ached at the thought.

“And you must be the forgemaster.” Lucian’s mouth was dry, but she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Your demons killed my family in Gresit.”

A flicker of understanding in his eyes told her all she needed to know, but he didn’t speak. She gripped the smooth, cold hilt of the collapsed spear. 

Trevor had said this was her kill. But something—something about the situation was off. Why hadn’t he moved to attack her? Or called more demons down? Why…?

Unbidden, her gaze darted around the room, settling on the broken chair—on the stake that had been carved from its leg, tossed carelessly aside. She frowned. “What’s that for?” Lucian asked, nodding at it.

Hector followed her gaze, and his mouth thinned. “Take it,” he said bitterly. “You’ll put it to better use than I can from here.”

Lucian frowned. “I—sorry, what?”

“I’m not working with the council because I _wish_ to!” Hector said, his lip curling. “But if you finish the job, my night creatures will attack indiscriminately, without direction.”

“But they follow your orders, don’t they?” Lucian said, trying to understand. “If you told them to attack the vampires—?”

“I. _Can’t._ ” Hector wasn’t sure what the girl was playing at, but if she hadn’t killed him already, maybe… maybe he still stood a chance. He held up his hand so she could see the ring. “I’m under a curse that leaves me beholden to their wills. If you cut it off, I could help—our goals are the same. We both want Carmilla and her sisters dead.”

He was desperate, Lucian could tell—desperate and pleading. And earnest.

Mama and Gavril’s blood was on his hands.

He hadn’t stood, hadn’t made a move to defend himself. It would be so easy to kill him and let his demons run loose. So easy to avenge her family’s deaths.

So easy to murder him in cold blood. 

Despite her hatred for the man in front of her, she recoiled at the thought. He was a prisoner—a slave. And she guessed _something_ one of the vampires had said left him sitting there, Cezar in his arms, whining softly as the pug looked between her and his master.

She’d be killing a defenseless man.

None of it made sense. All of it made sense. And if he was lying—what did she have to lose? His demons were already attacking her companions.

Hector watched her gnaw her lip for the briefest of moments before she came to her decision. “Alright,” the girl said, and approached with her strange dagger. “Hand on the floor. I’ll do it on three.”

Almost unable to believe this was happening, Hector did so, splaying his fingers as wide as they could go.

“One,” Lucian said, and brought the knife down.

Hector yelled at the sudden burst of pain, but compared to the agony of the ring, it was nothing. His severed finger remained on the floor and he tucked his hand against his shirt to staunch the bleeding. 

He was free. 

And the first thing he did with his newfound freedom was will the night creatures to attack the castle.

“I thought you said three,” Hector said accusingly, and she shrugged.

“Easier to deal with it when it’s not expected.”

He watched the girl twist the ring off the stump of his severed finger, flinging the cursed thing away to a corner. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Lucian,” she said, taking his injured hand. “Enache. You?”

“Hector Galanis.” He resisted briefly before she tugged his hand away, bringing his finger to the bleeding stump. His hand and cheek itched from the unfamiliar burst of holy energy, and he watched in amazement as the wound sealed, leaving his hand looking… perfect. Hector flexed his fingers, staring down at the space where the ring used to be.

“Alright then,” Lucian said, getting up and crossing the room to pick up the stake. She tossed it in Hector’s direction. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you, but we could really use your help.”

Hector’s hand closed around the smooth surface of the wood, and he smiled. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.”


	56. Chapter 56

When the gargoyles suddenly retreated in the middle of the battle, Trevor wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it evened the odds, allowed them to turn the tide, and when the vampire guards lay dead at their feet, they had a moment to catch their breath.

“...Where’s Lucian?” Sypha asked, whirling around.

Alucard swore and started toward the castle, but Trevor grabbed the hem of his coat, pulling him back.

“You can’t just go running in, you twat,” he said. 

Alucard hissed at him, but yanked his coat out of Trevor’s grasp, smoothing it down. “The dog must have run off toward its master,” he said. “We’ll have to hope Lucian is with it.”

“For some reason, the thought of her running right into a waiting nest of demons is _not_ something to be hopeful about,” Trevor said, stooping to gather his throwing knives from where they’d fallen and re-sheathing them.

“Lucian’s… stronger than you know,” Sypha said, though she still looked worried. “We’ll find her.”

Trevor waved for them to follow him, and they started up the hill toward the castle, the first rays of sun breaking behind them.

* * *

“So to sum up—just to make sure I’ve got this straight—Leon Belmont’s been a vampire this whole time and he was working with you,” Lucian said flatly, and Hector nodded. 

After one of his gargoyles had crashed through a window, leaving a gaping hole in the darkened glass, Lucian urged Hector to take her arm. He’d gathered up Cezar, and with a bit of straining on Lucian’s part, was able to lift them up to the opening. Now they crept along a corridor, Lucian following Hector’s lead.

“When everyone around you is an enemy, you take what allies you can get,” Hector said. “It’s my fault he’s in danger now—”

“That bitch made you tell her, it wasn’t—”

“We have to warn him before he gets killed—”

“They could see us coming through that viewing mirror—”

Hector paused, pulling Lucian into an alcove when a group of guards approached. Cezar tucked himself between Hector’s feet, whining softly before Hector shushed him.

Lucian held her breath, but the demon blood seemed to do its job, because the guards rushed past and turned a corner, the sounds of their clanking armour fading away.

“Carmilla will be more concerned with two Belmonts running loose in her castle,” he said. “She’s missing two key details: what _you_ are, and what you have of mine in your purse.”

Lucian’s hand twitched toward her belt pouch. _Fft-fft-fft_. “You expect me to just hand over the coins?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about how I might escape,” Hector said. “Researching, planning. If you trusted me enough to set me free—trust me again now. My night creatures will be overwhelmed quickly; I made them without the proper tools. They’re too weak to be of much use.”

“I…” Lucian hesitated, licking her lips. 

_He’d killed—_

But the council knew they were coming. They’d lost the element of surprise, and with a viewing mirror, they’d be hard-pressed to get the drop on the sisters. 

Hector was right. And she _hated_ it.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she said, and tipped the coins into Hector’s hand.

He smiled, fingers closing around them, and a blue spark danced over his fingers. “Come,” he said, ducking out of the alcove. “My workshop is this way.”

* * *

Trevor had never seen such a concentration of vampires before. It seemed like no matter how many they killed, another swarm would surge from down the hall and side corridors, trying to overwhelm them with sheer numbers. It wasn’t until Sypha set the entire entrance hall on fire that the remaining guards scattered, no doubt to find another way to ambush them.

“Your feats of magic get more impressive by the day,” Alucard said, and Sypha beamed. 

“You’re too sweet,” she said, and with a gesture, parted the flames for them to walk safely through.

“Don’t suppose you can smell which way they went?” Trevor asked, and Alucard shook his head.

“The stink is all over the castle,” he said. “The forgemaster’s chambers in my father’s castle were rather high up, though; he might have requested a similar setup with Carmilla.”

Sypha wrinkled her nose. “It seems like a bit of a long shot,” she said doubtfully.

“The castle’s too big for us to search methodically,” Trevor said, turning to face down a side corridor at the sounds of clanking armour.

“That’s quite the large word, coming from you,” Alucard said, readying his sword.

“Piss off.”

* * *

Lucian hesitated on the threshold of Hector’s workshop, casting a nervous eye toward the bloodstain in the corner. A single corpse lay slumped on the floor, its face torn off and its chest split wide open, ribs protruding into the air like grasping fingers. What little of its skin that wasn’t covered in blood had turned green and was starting to bloat.

Hector went over to it, Cezar trotting at his heels, and sighed when he knelt to examine it. “I knew there was a reason I kept avoiding using this one,” he said, sounding disappointed. He looked up at Lucian. “Help me get it on the altar.”

Lucian’s stomach churned at the thought, but she stepped into the room, the stink of decay and the cloying, oily atmosphere of dark magic wrapping like tendrils around her. She shuddered, but grabbed the corpse’s feet as Hector took the arms, and they hefted it onto the slab of stone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the body, stepping back.

“What was that?” Hector asked, glancing up at her.

“...Nothing.” She noticed Hector avoided the hammer propped against the altar. “They tried getting you a replacement,” she said, nodding at it.

Hector nodded. “I must say, I liked the old one better,” he said dryly, and a nervous giggle escaped Lucian before she could stop it. “But you brought me the coins, and that’s what matters.”

He struck the coins together, blue sparks flying over the body, and as Lucian watched, it began to twitch and distort, limbs stretching and moulding into thick, twisted vines.

* * *

It was as they were nearing the higher levels of the castle that a single cloaked shape darted across the intersection, moving far too swiftly and silently to be human. Trevor cracked the Morning Star, and the weapon’s head impacted solidly in the centre of mass.

“Ow!” the figure said, sounding mildly annoyed more than anything. He turned, and Trevor felt the floor drop out beneath him.

Leon Belmont, skin much too pale, ears too pointed, eyes too red, stood in front of him, looking nearly identical to his portrait in the hold. 

It didn’t miss Trevor how the vampire’s eyes flickered down to the crest on his tunic, and then back up, disbelief and joy on his face. “You’re—!”

“Stay back,” Sypha said, conjuring a row of icicles between them and Leon when he stepped forward. 

“Sypha,” Trevor said, heart in his throat. “ _Wait_. That’s—”

Leon Belmont.

Leon Belmont, alive.

Leon Belmont, alive and a vampire. 

Leon Belmont, alive, and a vampire who wasn’t affected by the Morning Star.

_The fuck was going on?_

“I know who he is, Trevor,” Sypha said, the icicles still hovering between them. “But he’s a vampire walking free in the castle.”

“I am not your enemy,” Leon said, holding up his hands. “I don’t have time to explain—Carmilla knows you’re here, and she’s out for both our blood.”

“Never would have guessed that with the number of guards we met on the way up,” Trevor said. 

Alucard glanced between Trevor and Leon before focusing on the vampire. “Where were you going?”

“Carmilla’s chambers. There’s a distance mirror there which I rather wished to steal back from her, and contact some allies of mine.” Leon gave Alucard an appraising look. “You must be Dracula’s son.”

“I am.” Alucard’s voice was cold.

Leon smiled sadly. “I can explain everything, but we need to get to that mirror,” he said, when an enormous woman emerged from the shadows behind him. 

“Little rats, scurrying around the castle,” she said, amusement in her voice. Two more vampires emerged on either side of her, one pale as the snow outside and wearing a blood-red dress, the other with darker skin and heavy blue eyeshadow.

“You should have known better than to double cross us, Marcel Trantoul,” the pale one said, her eyes narrowing. “Or should I say Leon Belmont?”

_Trantoul._

Trevor didn’t have time to dwell on it when Carmilla laughed, high and cold. “Now your line dies out for good.”

The standoff broke, Leon launching himself at Carmilla as his form blurred, shifting into that of a giant silver wolf. 

Trevor went straight for Striga, the Morning Star aimed at her head. She ducked under it and caught the chain, even as it seared her hands, and _pulled_ , nearly yanking Trevor off his feet before he let go and drew his sword. 

It was chaos, battling in the narrow corridor, and even though they outnumbered the sisters, Striga fought with strength enough to make up the difference. She swatted Trevor aside, caught Alucard by the neck, and hurled him through the wall—though three feet of solid stone, across the parlour, through the wall opposite, leaving him dazed among the rubble. Striga launched herself after him, beginning to tear at him with her talons.

Alucard’s eyes blazed red and he called his sword to him, forcing Striga to let go to deflect the blade off her vambrace in a shower of sparks.

“Nice toy,” she said as she leapt backwards, and Alucard followed, nails elongating into talons as they grappled.

Trevor sprinted after them, unwinding the leather whip from his belt, wielding it in tandem with his sword. The giant of a woman, even as distracted by Alucard as she was, seemed to be able to dodge his every strike before Trevor closed the distance to swing at her neck.

Striga turned and delivered a solid blow to his sternum, sending Trevor flying into a wall with a loud crack.

Leon and Carmilla were a blur of white and red and silver, snarling like animals as they clawed at each other. Sypha found herself backing down the corridor, away from Morana’s talons as the vampire swiped at her, before a wall of ice appeared at her back. 

Morana smiled, lowering her fingers. “Don’t think you’re the only magician here, Speaker,” she said, her voice low. “The only difference between you and I is that I’ve studied for centuries—” She twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding a disc of ice that went flying past her head, before redirecting a bolt of lightning. It blasted a hole in the ceiling, rubble and dust raining down between them.

“Shut up and _fight!_ ” Sypha brought her hands together, fire forming between them. Morana raised her own hands and bared her fangs, and a gust of wind erupted from them at galeforce speeds, sending Sypha flying backwards against the wall of ice.

* * *

Hector and Lucian followed the sounds of explosions, the vine horror Hector had created dragging its long arms behind it. 

Lucian recognised the tiny purple flowers that covered its arms as aconite, one of the lesser-known banes to vampires, and she wondered what the soul inside the beast was thinking—if it even could think or was merely the engine powering the body. Whatever it was, the dark magic that poured off it in waves left her wondering if she'd even be able to vaporise this one like the others.

She and Hector both froze when a swarm of bats flew down the corridor, reforming into a petite redheaded vampire. 

“ _Lenore_ ,” Hector growled, hand going to the stake in his belt. At his feet, Cezar growled too, tail tucked between his legs.

“After everything I did for you, Hector, and this is how you see fit to repay me?” Lenore said, sounding… disappointed. “I was _good_ to you. I took you from the dungeons and gave you nothing but comfort and kindness—”

“You betrayed me,” Hector spat. “And used me and called me your _pet._ ” He raised a hand, and the vine horror lunged at Lenore, tendrils lashing out like whips. Lucian flattened herself against the wall, eyes huge. 

Lenore turned into mist, flying past them to reform again. “Hector, we can talk about this,” she said, and gasped when vines shot from the creature’s back to impale her chest and arms, lifting her off the floor. She kicked and struggled, gasping in pain. 

Another thick strand of vines slammed against one of the tinted windows, and the glass shattered, letting sunlight stream into the corridor.

“Hector!” Lenore screamed. “Hector, let me go! What are you doing? HECTOR!”

Hector motioned to the vine horror to bring her closer to his face, and he stared her down, teeth bared in a mockery of a smile. “I am no-one’s pet. Or toy, or _plaything._ I am a forgemaster, and I am no longer anyone’s slave!”

He flicked his fingers, and Lenore was thrust into the bright light of dawn. She screamed as she began to smoke, and the awful smell of dead and burning flesh filled the corridor.

“SISTERS!” Lenore screamed. “HELP ME! _HECTOR!_ ”

Lucian could only stare in horror as Lenore’s skin began to sag and melt, turning red and blistered before splitting and cracking, going black as it peeled away from her face. Her screams echoed off the stone walls as she thrashed in the vine horror’s grip, the aconite keeping her unable to escape.

Hector watched impassively, his arms at his sides. Lucian stepped forward and tugged the stake from Hector’s belt, and he looked down at her. She pressed it into his hands.

“You should be the one to do it,” she said. 

He saw through her in an instant—knew she wanted it to end—but she was also right. He wouldn’t feel complete if he didn’t.

Hector drove the stake into Lenore’s heart. 

She let out one last scream and went still, and her body began to crumble to dust, blowing away in the wind and leaving behind only a charred gown that dangled from the vines.

Hector realised he was shaking as he lowered the bloody stake. 

Lucian tentatively put a hand on his arm, and he flinched at her touch but didn’t jerk away. “Are you okay?”

Comforting him, when he—or possibly Isaac—had been the one responsible for her family’s deaths. Hector wanted to snap at her, to ask why she even cared. But he pushed his hair out of his face and nodded. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a very long time.” 

And he smiled.

The vine horror flung the dress out the window, where it fluttered in the cold wind as it fell to the ground far below.

“We need to find the others,” Hector said. “I just hope your Belmont doesn’t kill me on sight.”

* * *

They heard Lenore’s screams faintly over the pitched sounds of battle, and when Morana looked up in horror, a massive spike of ice erupted from the floor, impaling her through the jaw and pinning her in place before Sypha incinerated her on the spot. 

“ _Morana!_ ” Striga screamed, her voice breaking, and she threw Alucard and Trevor off of her, racing towards Sypha in a blur. 

Sypha threw up her hands, conjuring a wall of ice between them, but Striga broke through it like it was made of glass, grabbing Sypha around the neck.

The Morning Star wrapped around Striga’s arm, burning her, and when she was forced to let go of Sypha, Leon jerked the chain. It unwound at an unbelievable speed, the head striking Striga on the jaw with a sizzle before she exploded. Sypha only barely managed to cast a spell in time to direct the fire around her.

And then Leon was at her side, offering her a hand, which she took—noting as she did that his talons were blunt, trimmed to fingernail length. 

He nodded at her, turning to Carmilla, who was slumped and bleeding against the wall, an arm torn off by the wolf Leon’s jaws. 

Trevor and Alucard joined them, Trevor glancing at the Morning Star in Leon’s hands as he prepared his whip for another strike.

“No,” Carmilla gasped. “No, this can’t… I was going to rule—”

A blinding light filled the corridor, and when it died, Lucian was standing there, spear in hand, palm glowing. Carmilla was gone.

Behind her was a silver-haired man, and—

“Lucian, duck!” Trevor yelled, and she did so on instinct, even as Hector yelled “NO!”

The vine horror swelled and burst, and Hector’s hand went to the stake at his belt out of instinct. 

“No!” Lucian stepped in front of Hector before Trevor could attack again, and Leon firmly gripped Trevor’s arm in warning. “Don’t kill him!”

“Lucian, do you know who he is?” Trevor said, jerking his arm out of Leon’s grip. “He’s—”

“The forgemaster, I _know_ ,” Lucian said.

"He killed—"

“I KNOW!" Lucian took a deep breath. "I know. But he killed one of the council members, guys—I—I think he’s on our side now.” She glanced back at Hector, who was glaring at Trevor. “...Kind of.”

“The demons _were_ attacking the vampires,” Sypha said, biting her lip as she glanced between Trevor, Lucian, Leon, and Hector.

Leon crossed the gap between them, and Lucian stepped aside, staring at him in awe as he stopped before Hector.

“Thank you,” Leon said, holding out his hand. Hector grasped it, and Leon glanced at his finger. “No ring?”

“Not anymore,” Hector said, and indicated Lucian. “Thanks to her.”

Leon turned to Lucian and studied her. “I think,” he said, “you may have something of mine.”

Lucian’s eyes widened and she dug into the pouch at her belt, pulling out the scrap of fabric with the Belmont crest. Leon took it from her and pressed it briefly to his face, closing his eyes. "Thank you."

“Sieur Trantoul?” she asked. “Leon?”

“I get the sense,” Alucard began quietly, “that there’s a long story behind all of this.”

“There is,” Leon agreed. “But one better told in safer spaces. Hector—can you take me to the mirror?”

“We’ll all go,” Trevor said. He held out a hand for the Morning Star, meeting Leon’s eyes expectantly.

Leon hesitated, then ran a hand over the hilt before reluctantly passing it back to Trevor.

Trevor paused, taken off-balance by the willingness with which Leon had relinquished the weapon, before he nodded and turned to Hector. “If you try anything funny, you’ll be dead in less than a second,” he said. “Move.”

* * *

Trevor and Leon fell to the back of the group as they walked, glancing at each other but neither knowing quite where to start. 

“You have my eyes,” Leon said at long last, his voice soft, and Trevor glanced up, startled. “Or what they used to look like. Funny, the things that survive the generations.”

“Funny how the generations don’t survive,” Trevor said, hands curling into loose fists at his sides. “Did you even care when you heard the rest of us got killed off?” It didn’t miss him how Leon flinched. 

“I’ll be honest with you…?”

“Trevor.”

Leon paused. “Trefor?”

Despite himself, Trevor snorted. “Named after him, but no. Tre _vor_. With a V.”

Leon chuckled tiredly. “I’ll be honest with you, Trevor… I didn’t hear of the Belmonts’ extermination until a month ago.”

“A _month?_ ” Trevor stared. “Everyone else has been dead for nearly fifteen _fucking_ years! Did you just never bother to check up, see how the old grandkids were doing?”

“I wanted to,” Leon said quietly. “Believe me, the thought crossed my mind many times. I thought it best if I stayed away, though, given my…”

“Being a fucking vampire? Yeah, no shit, you’d probably have been killed.” Trevor shook his head. “How does _that_ even fucking happen, anyway?”

Leon sighed, running a thumb over the scrap of cloth with the Belmont crest on it. “Like I said… it’s a long story. One I’d rather tell when we’re safe.”

“And the forgemaster?”

“A valuable ally to me,” Leon said, glancing up towards the front of their little group, where Hector had Cezar in his arms, cooing over the dog. 

As Trevor watched, Lucian inclined her head to him, and he nodded; she reached over to pet Cezar as well, laughing softly when the dog licked her hand.

“You trust him?”

Leon gave Trevor an appraising look. “Do you trust _me_ enough to take my word for it?”

Trevor snorted despite himself. “Yeah… no. That’s fair.”

Hector stopped outside a set of magnificent gilded doors. “This is it.”

Leon stepped past the others to push them open. He glanced around and made a beeline for the case on the table, flipping it open. Stepping inside, Trevor could see him grin as the shards rose into the air, fangs visible in his reflection. 

“Show me Basile Toussaint,” Leon said, and the reflection rippled to show a dark-haired man wearing a gambeson, a polished silver helmet under his arm. Leon tapped the mirror, and the man looked up, laughed, and the two began to talk in rapid-fire French.

Trevor’s was rusty due to years of disuse, but he caught the gist of the conversation: Toussaint was coming to see them.

“Wait a second,” Sypha said, her eyes huge. “You can’t mean—?”

In a shimmer of pink and green, Toussaint stepped out of thin air and pulled Leon into a hug. He looked around, eyeing Hector for a moment before his gaze landed on Lucian, and his face lit up.

He pointed at her and began to speak, but Leon cut him off, and he nodded. 

“Everybody—touch him,” Leon said, packing the mirror away and gripping Toussaint’s arm. “He’ll take us to safety.”

Sypha and Alucard—who’d clearly understood the conversation, did so, though the dubious look on Sypha’s face did nothing to make Trevor feel any better.

“That’s the Infinite Corridor,” Trevor said, staring at the spot where Toussaint had emerged. “What’s—?”

“Trevor, please,” Leon said. “Let’s not linger here.”

Trevor grit his teeth, and glanced at Sypha, who nodded. He reluctantly put a hand on the knight’s pauldron, and Lucian and Hector followed suit.

And the world disappeared in a swirl of colour.


	57. Chapter 57

Pink and green shot through with flashes of every other colour swirled around them, and Sypha felt her fingers grow slick with sweat on Toussaint’s gauntlet, remembering Lindenfeld. 

It was like they were flying along at impossible speeds, even though they weren’t even moving—and then they were inside a cave, half a dozen men and women of various shapes, sizes, and skintones in armour or half-out of it. They looked up when the group appeared in the middle of them, several glancing curiously at the crest on Trevor’s tunic and a few giving Hector suspicious looks, but most staring at Lucian, grins breaking out among them.

“Maud?” Leon called, and a dark-skinned woman with cornrows held up a hand, then nodded.

“Very sorry about that,” Toussaint said in what _sounded_ like perfect Romanian. “And thank you, Maud.”

“It was no problem,” Maud said in a thick Dutch accent. “Sieur Trantoul? Were you successful, then?”

“I was,” Leon said, and cheers echoed off the cave walls as he set the case containing the mirror down. “The council is dead, though it will be some time before Styria is free. I didn’t do it alone, though—thanks to all of your work holding down the border, and my new friends—the ones we’ve been waiting on… and whose names I have not yet learned, apart from Trevor’s.”

“Trefor?” A petite young man with a boyish looking face asked, his accent placing him as from somewhere in northern Italy.

“Tre _vor_ ,” Trevor said, wondering just how many people he would have to correct on this. “And that’s Sypha and Lucian, and…” He hesitated, not sure if Alucard wanted to go by Adrian again or not.

Alucard inclined his head. “Alucard will do fine.”

“The son of Dracula,” somebody near the back whispered, and Alucard bit back a sigh.

Leon turned to smile at the group before looking at the forgemaster. “Hector?”

Hector, still somewhat in shock from their journey through the Infinite Corridor, startled when Leon threw an arm around his shoulders. “This is the man responsible for many of our victories,” he said. “He passed information to me from right under the council’s noses, risking his life for our cause.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but three cheers for the forgemaster,” a man with a long brown ponytail said, to a roar of approval.

“And the rest of them, too,” Maud added. She approached, stopping in front of Lucian and looking down at her from an imposing height. She grinned. “You must be the one that gave Sieur Trantoul such a scare a few months back. Got the same smell to you.”

“Uh,” Lucian said, her brain going blank as she stared up at the knight. The buzz of holy energy in the cave seemed to muddle her thoughts.

“She is,” Leon said. “And before you ask, I did get the cloth back.” He turned to the others. “I promised you explanations, and it’s time you got them. Come—there will be a fire and drinks soon. Lorenzo?”

Lorenzo—the Italian man who’d spoken earlier—stood to attention.

“Bring our friends some holy water so they can wash up,” Leon said. “Get the others started with the alcohol—it’s time we celebrated.”

“No complaints there,” Trevor said, grinning.

Alucard sighed. “If I didn’t know you two were related already, I would now.”

Sypha cleared her throat. “Leon, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble—we left a wagon and horses behind near the castle, and it’s snowing…”

“Ah—Lorenzo,” Leon added, and Lorenzo paused, turning back to him. “Use our new viewing mirror to locate their horses as well.”

Lorenzo nodded and hurried off.

“Who _are_ all these people, anyway?” Sypha asked, looking around at the encampment as they followed Leon to a cold fire pit, crates set up around it to act as seats. Leon tossed a few logs from the nearby pile onto the ashes, and Sypha set them alight as they took their seats.

Leon sat and unwrapped his cloak, offering it to Hector, who hadn’t even realised he’d been shivering until then. “Like I said, it’s—”

“A long story, we get it,” Trevor grumbled. “Quit stalling and get on with it.”

“Maybe if you stopped interrupting him, Belmont—” Alucard began.

Leon cleared his throat and they fell silent.

He looked over at Alucard and smiled. “You know,” he said, “it’s funny—you take very strongly after your mother.”

Alucard looked rather taken aback at this before frowning. “She never mentioned you before.”

“She never knew me,” Leon said. “Not in this lifetime, at least. But four hundred years ago… I suppose that’s where our story really starts.”

He stared into the fire; everyone sitting around it stared at him, waiting, expectant.

“Alucard, I’m sure you’re just as familiar as Trevor is with the stories of our family’s rivalry with your father,” Leon finally said. “But before we were enemies—before Dracula and I were vampires, even, he and I were…" He looked like he was debating with himself, before settling on his next words. "The dearest of friends.”

Alucard and Trevor exchanged looks, perfect mirrors of each other’s dubiousness.

“Father rarely spoke of you,” Alucard said at last. “Though I did wonder why he kept a portrait of you in the castle…”

“Wait, what?” Lucian blurted out. “I saw loads of portraits while living there, Leon wasn’t in any of them.”

Hector cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. “It’s tucked away in a hard-to-find alcove,” he said, not quite sure where to look now that he was sharing a fire with the foursome responsible for Dracula’s demise. “Cezar loved to nap there because it was quiet.”

The pug perked up at the sound of his name, and Hector gave him a reassuring pet, glad their bizarre leap through space hadn’t seemed to cause Cezar any distress.

“So that’s where he always—!” Lucian fell silent when Sypha gave her a hard look. “Sorry,” she said, gesturing apologetically to Leon. “Uh, continue, please?”

“I don’t mind the interruptions,” Leon said, though the humour in his tone seemed a little forced. “It gives me time to gather my thoughts, though we may be here all day if it keeps happening.” He looked over at Alucard. “When your father was human, his name was Mathias Cronqvist, and we, along with the Trefor for whom you were named—” He nodded at Trevor with a faint smile. “—were soldiers in the crusades together.”

Lucian couldn’t quite bite back the quiet, derisive snort. Leon raised a slow eyebrow at her, and she blushed.

“The three of us were…” Leon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “close, but then Mathias met a woman named Elisabetha. A clever mind and a keen desire for knowledge, and a kind heart that could bring out the best in anybody. I expect your own mother was the same?”

Alucard’s mouth thinned to a line. “My mother’s name was Lisa,” he said. “She was born in the Year of Our Lord 1433. And died last year at the hands of the church.”

“She was also born in 1064,” Leon said. “And again in 1247. As far as I know, the incarnation of her known as Eliza and your father never met, though she was a… friend of mine, as well. You’re the spitting image of her, you know,” he added fondly. “I was very sorry to hear of her death.”

“Wait,” Sypha said, leaning forward. “You’re saying Alucard’s mother has been reincarnating?”

“It's not an unusual phenomenon. Same soul, similar bodies, but no retained memories,” Leon said. He folded his hands in front of him. “Her first death in the eleventh century came as a shock to all of us. While we were away for the crusades, she fell ill and died. When we returned home and learned of her passing, Mathias was…” He paused, and looked up at the ceiling. “I want to say ‘heartbroken’, but I don’t think there are any words to describe his grief. It was like a piece of him died that day.

“I’m sorry to say, but in his grief and madness, he drove both Trefor and myself away from him. It was in this time that I met and fell in love with a woman—Sara Trantoul.”

Trevor’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s where you got the name from.”

Leon nodded. “May I see the Morning Star, please?” he asked suddenly, and Trevor hesitated before passing it to Sypha, who passed it to Lucian, who passed it to Leon.

The vampire ran a hand over the chain, fingers curling loosely over the grip. Hector thought he might be about to cry again, but when Leon looked up, his expression was controlled, if clouded.

“Why doesn’t that thing hurt you, anyway?” Trevor asked, nodding at the Morning Star. “It’s—well, I want to say lucky it didn’t blow you up before, but I’m guessing there’s a reason for that.”

Leon’s expression shuttered, and he nodded. “It all comes back to Sara,” he said softly. “And a very powerful vampire named Walter Bernhard, and an artefact known as the Crimson Stone.”

Sypha gasped, but she was the only one to react. “I thought it was just a legend!” When she was met with blank faces around the fireplace, her eyes lit up as she looked to Leon. “May I?”

He motioned for her to continue.

“The Crimson Stone—at least, in the stories I’ve heard—is believed to be the origin of the legend of the Philosopher’s Stone—”

“A legend creating a legend?” Lucian said dubiously, and Sypha flapped her hands at her to be quiet.

“It traps a vampire’s soul inside and enhances its power, immensely,” Sypha said. “Whoever’s in possession of the stone will become a vampire as well, which is likely where the immortality part of the stories came from.”

“Those legends got it right,” Leon said. He glanced at Alucard, but his gaze seemed hundreds of miles—and years—away. “Mathias was a brilliant scientist and magician. He created the Crimson Stone. How, I don’t know. But without the soul of a vampire, it would be incomplete. Mathias was never one to settle for anything less than perfect, though, and so he set his sights on the most powerful vampire in existence at the time.”

“Walter Bernhard,” Hector guessed.

Trevor held up a hand. “Hang on, so this vampire’s name was _actually_ Walter?”

“As far as I’m aware.”

“The most powerful and feared vampire known to man, and his name was _Walter?_ ”

One of Leon’s ears flicked in annoyance. “Are you done,” he said flatly. Trevor just sat back and crossed his arms, grinning.

Leon, for his part, however, looked distinctly unamused. “Mathias knew he wasn’t a skilled enough fighter to take down Bernhard, so instead he contacted Bernhard directly, posing as an ally and friend. Bernhard…” Leon laced his fingers together, thinking. “To be honest, I don’t know how old he was, but he was ancient. He’d lived such a long life that he was bored, and amused himself allowing would-be vampire slayers into his castle to challenge him.”

“And Mathias pointed him to you,” Lucian said, her eyes huge. 

Lorenzo and another of the knights approached then with a bucket of holy water and several battered but well-made tankards full of a strong, fruity cider, which they passed around to everyone. Trevor sniffed at his, grimaced when he anticipated the sweetness, but drank greedily.

When Leon lowered his own cup, his lip was stained with blood, which he licked away with a sigh. “Roisin,” he said, looking up at the red-haired woman, “you don’t have to do this for me every time.”

She winked at him. “Stronger than the others, aren’t I?” she said. Her accent was vague, hints from all over Europe, but with a distinctly Irish tilt. “I’ve got enough to spare, sieur, don’t worry about me.” She inclined her head towards Alucard. “What about you?”

“No thank you, but it’s kind of you to offer,” he said stiffly, dipping his hand into the bucket to begin scrubbing off the dried demon blood, which vaporised as soon as the water touched his skin. “The cider is fine.”

Roisin nodded, turning back to Leon. “Sieur, we’ve got the horses just fine, though I’ll have to go back for the wagon later. Do we go home tomorrow?”

Leon cast an appraising glance out over the group. “I’ll make my decision after I’m done here,” he said. “But until then, assume we’ll leave at sunset. Let the others know.”

Roisin saluted. “Aye, sieur!”

“She seems nice,” Sypha said, smiling after Roisin’s retreating back.

“Roisin’s my second in command,” Leon said, nodding. “We’ve had each other’s backs for—” And here, he cast a glance at Lucian, seeming to think better of what he was about to say. “A very long time,” he said instead, and took another drink.

Trevor’s gaze slid sideways to Lucian and he frowned, before re-focusing on Leon. “So what did Bernhard do, anyway?”

The vampire’s gaze was downcast as he lowered his blood-filled tankard. “Bernhard abducted Sara the night before we were to be wed. I was—” His knuckles somehow managed to go even whiter on the tankard’s handle. “I was devastated, but determined to save her.” His fingers trailed over the Morning Star’s head; the motion didn’t go unnoticed by Hector.

“Is that what led to the creation of the famed weapon?” he asked, and Leon’s fingers stilled. 

“Not exactly.” Leon’s voice was soft. “I set off for northern Italy—the place where Bernhard’s castle was last seen.”

Alucard’s eyes widened slightly. “Castlevania was Bernhard’s before—?”

Leon nodded. “Trefor stayed behind,” he said. “He felt abandoning Mathias in his grief would do more harm than travelling with me. I had no experience hunting creatures of the night, but I was the most skilled warrior of my company. Of course, skill alone only does so much against vampires when you don’t have the proper tools to fight them.”

“So you went off to fight the most powerful vampire in the world, no experience, no consecrated weapons, and lived?” Trevor said incredulously. He cast a glance at the tankard in Leon’s hands. “Well—”

“It was not Bernhard who turned me,” Leon said. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves—we were on the Morning Star.”

“Its consecration is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before,” Lucian said. 

Leon nodded, staring down at the weapon. “Once, it was a normal weapon, I suppose,” he said. “I never exactly asked if the alchemy it contained when I first received it was infused during or after its creation. But a very kind alchemist named Rinaldo offered me shelter one night, when I was near the castle. He’d lost his daughter to Bernhard, see, and he would tirelessly make weapons to gift to any vampire hunters he met.” He chuckled softly. “I would have preferred a sword, but this length of chain was all he had at the time. So I took it, and ventured into the castle to save Sara.

“I found her, enthralled and at Bernhard’s side.” Leon set his tankard down, both hands resting on the handle of the Morning Star. “He and I fought, and I lost. Bernhard let me take Sara, though—I was no threat to him, and she’d served her purpose as a _pawn_ in his little game.”

“He let you leave?” Trevor said, blinking. “Just like that?”

Leon’s mouth curled in a bitter smile. “I wish it were that simple. I took Sara back to Rinaldo’s—it was the closest safe haven I could think of—and she became deathly ill as the night fell.”

Alucard inhaled sharply. “Bernhard fed her his blood.”

“Yes.” Leon’s fingers curled on the handle. “Rinaldo recognised what was happening right away—his own daughter displayed the same symptoms before she turned and in a newborn frenzy slaughtered his wife and other children. Sara—Sara begged me to kill her, to not let her become a monster, and… Rinaldo offered another solution.

“He’d been working on a way to make a truly fearsome weapon against vampires, but was missing one final ingredient: the soul of a corrupted, but not yet turned, human. And I’d brought Sara right to him.”

It was dead silent around the fire, everyone staring at Leon in dawning horror. Hector looked down at Cezar, running his hands over the pug’s fur. 

Pulling souls from the depths of Hell to place in a forged body, he understood. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about taking a living soul and trapping it in an inanimate object. At least once a night creature was killed, its soul returned to Hell. But this?

“Sara begged me to not let her become a monster,” Leon said, swallowing. “Her last wish was that I be the one to do it—that her death not be in vain. Rinaldo got the spell ready, I bade my love farewell, and—” His voice finally broke. “And I killed her.”

Sypha got up from her seat, moving around the circle to put her arms around Leon. He didn’t react, remaining unnaturally still in the way only vampires could. 

“So that’s what I felt in the Morning Star?” Lucian asked, her voice tiny. “Sara’s soul?”

Leon nodded once, a stiff, jerky movement. 

“...Holy shit,” was all Trevor could think to say.

Leon trailed his hands over the Morning Star before picking up his tankard and taking a long drink. “I returned to the castle to finish what I’d started. Bernhard was arrogant, and believed that since he had already bested me once, it would be a simple matter to do it again. Bernhard was no ordinary vampire, though—I’m sure you’re well familiar with what the Morning Star is capable of,” he said, nodding at Trevor. “Bernhard was capable of withstanding its attacks, but they hurt him severely.”

“Like Dracula,” Alucard murmured. Leon cast a glance his way.

“While I was gone, Mathias was working on a distance mirror without Trefor’s knowledge. He had been watching my progress through the castle, and stepped through it just as I delivered the final blow. He captured Bernhard’s soul in the Crimson Stone, and before my eyes, he was transformed. 

“He’d been searching for a way to achieve immortality, not just for him, but for myself and Trefor as well. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing more people he loved to death, and was enraged when I refused his offer. I was too weakened from the fight with Bernhard to defend myself. When I woke up… I was a vampire.”

Alucard’s brow knit at that. Leon hadn’t mentioned children with Sara, but… no.

A quick glance at Trevor showed he was still listening to Leon intently, and Sypha’s face was hidden behind the vampire. Lucian, though, met his gaze before her eyes flickered first to Leon, then to Trevor.

So she’d guessed much the same.

“Mathias let me go, certain I would come back. I made my way to Rinaldo that night to tell him what had happened and asked him to kill me, giving him the Morning Star to do the job.” Leon’s mouth twisted. “Rinaldo was shocked, not just at the amount of control I had as a newborn, but that the Morning Star didn’t burn me. We realised Sara’s soul refused to harm me, even in my new form. I decided to return to France, to Trefor, to tell him what Mathias had done.

“Needless to say, Trefor was… shocked. Dismayed that he could betray us like that. Incredulous about what happened to me, and to Sara. We made it our mission, then, to stop him, no matter the cost. Trefor and I resigned from our company and headed east, following reports of a new vampire lord in Wallachia.”

“He must have cared about you a great deal to leave behind his home and travel with you,” Sypha said. 

“I should hope so,” Leon said. He paused, watching Trevor out of the corner of his eye until Trevor took a drink from his tankard. “Seeing as we shared a bed with Mathias, befor—”

Trevor nearly spat out his drink and began coughing. Alucard, for his part, was staring, a faint twitch forming under one eye.

Hector blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting from Leon’s story, that was far and away the last thing he would have imagined. It was hard to reconcile _this_ with the Dracula he had known.

“Wait,” Lucian said. “Just to check—all of you were… together?”

“I don’t know why you’re so shocked,” Sypha said, giving Leon’s arms a gentle squeeze before moving to sit back down. “After all, the four of us—”

“So you went east to Wallachia,” Trevor said loudly, cutting her off. It didn't miss him how the fucking forgemaster was watching the exchange.

Leon finally chuckled, sounding genuinely amused for the first time since starting his tale. “We did,” he said. “It was a slow journey, since I could only travel at night. And seeing how many night creatures live there in Wallachia, we decided to settle down there, build a home—a base of operations.”

“The Belmont Estate,” Sypha said.

“It was really more of a cabin at first, but it grew and developed in time,” Leon said, smiling fondly. “I spent many, many hours excavating the space beneath to make a stronghold, a place where we could collect the knowledge accumulated on our hunts.”

Lucian began to laugh, poking Trevor. “I asked!” she said excitedly. “Remember, I asked how the Belmonts made the _giant_ _underground library_ and kept it secret!”

“Yes, you did,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes.

“You have _no_ idea how long that was bugging me,” Lucian said, and Leon smiled.

“It took years, but I had nothing but time now,” he said. His smile turned wistful. “And… in that time, a young monster hunter came into our lives. Her name was Victoria—no family name, at least none that she knew. She’d heard rumours of a vampire living in the forest near the then-budding township of Arges and came looking. Luckily Trefor was there and was able to intervene before she took my head off.” He chuckled at the memory. “And… after a few years, we married. Well, I say married—not in a church, since I don’t think they would have been happy to let a vampire through their doors—but she took my name, and… Trevor?”

Trevor had gone very, very white. “No,” he whispered. He set down his tankard with trembling hands. “No, that’s—that would mean—” He stood up, shaking his head. “I—I need to think.” He drew his cloak around him and hurried to the mouth of the cave, disappearing into the falling snow.

“...I was worried about this,” Leon sighed.

“I thought he would have already figured it out,” Sypha said, biting her lip as she looked after Trevor. “If you and Sara never had children…”

“Denial is… a powerful thing,” Lucian said. Her hands curled around her own mug and she stared down at its contents. “I did wonder… not if he was part vampire, just if there was something—I’ve seen him endure hits that would have killed anyone else.”

Alucard stood. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, mouth set in a grim line. “Please don’t wait on our behalf, I’m sure Sypha would be more than happy to tell us the rest later.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Lucian said, reaching up to squeeze his hand. “Go.”

Alucard followed Trevor into the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be one exposition chapter and then more smut, but it started getting longer than expected so I'm cutting it off here. Next chapter will be the rest of the tale and Trevor's inevitable existential crisis. :D


	58. Chapter 58

Alucard found Trevor taking shelter under a tree, the hood of his thin cloak drawn up around his ears in a futile effort against the cold.

“You’ve got to be freezing like that,” Alucard said, stopping beside him.

Trevor snorted and tugged the hood a little lower. “No shit. I miss my old cloak.”

The cave mouth opened onto a steep valley, the slopes of the surrounding mountains covered with snow, ice, and evergreens. The entire world seemed to be swallowed up in a rising blanket of snow, leaving a soft silence to fall over creation.

Alucard crossed his arms, staring out over the valley with Trevor. “You’re an idiot.”

Instead of firing back out of reflex, Trevor just sighed, hunching a little farther into his cloak. “And I suppose you’re here to jack off to all the reasons why.”

“Amazingly, no.” Alucard shot a tired grin at Trevor, his fangs glinting in the weak sunlight. “So you’ve got vampire blood. Big _fucking_ deal.”

Trevor cast a glance at Alucard and snorted. “‘Course you would say that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Alucard didn’t quite lean up against Trevor, but they were close enough together the tension was palpable. “Being part vampire’s hardly the worst thing in the world. If nothing else, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was responsible for your survival.”

“Hah.” Trevor shifted under his cloak before a hand came up from beneath the folds to run over his face. “You say that, but I’ve wondered in the past. It’s just… no. Never mind.”

Alucard gnawed his lip, wanting to let it go, to never speak of this again. “You know Lucian would knock our heads together if we came back in with nothing sorted,” he said dryly, and Trevor snorted, to his delight.

  
It was nice to see him smile.

“Fuck you. Alright, fine.” Trevor sighed again and turned to look at Alucard, having to tilt his head up just the slightest fraction to meet the dhampir’s gaze. “My whole life—as far back as I know? My family’s sole purpose was to hunt monsters, vampires in particular, and Dracula specifically. You have any idea what it’s like to have that whole legacy turned on its head?”

Alucard wanted desperately to look away, and for the briefest of moments, his gaze flickered before it re-focused on Trevor. “I can’t say I do.”

“Before the whole…” Trevor waved an airy hand. “Gresit thing? I was fine as a wandering drunk. Go where I liked, do what I wanted, sleep under whatever tree, maybe wake up with a stray cat or two on my chest before shooing them away so I could vomit in a ditch. But, fuck—though all that, I knew I was a Belmont, I fought monsters. Sure, I got disillusioned with God knows everything— _don’t_ ask Lucian about Gresit, and no, that’s _not_ a bloody invitation—but that was always my family’s legacy. We fought monsters. We hunted vampires.” 

Trevor sighed, blowing a strand of dark hair away from his face. “Fucking Hell,” he said after a long pause. “That case in the hold—with the skulls?” Alucard suddenly tensed, and Trevor knew _he_ knew the one. “First time I ever saw that, I thought it was just an interesting collection of trophies. Second time was with you, and I just didn’t give a shit, you know? And now—”

“You care because you feel kinship with them?” Alucard’s voice was cold.

“No, I—!” Trevor snarled and turned away, stalking to the ridge and out from the shelter of the tree. His cloak whipped in the wind, a dark silhouette against the steadily-whitening world. “I wonder who might have lived if we’d known!”

His shout was swallowed by the snow.

Alucard hesitantly approached, putting a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. 

“I mean, look at _us_ ,” Trevor said, and finally deigned to glance up at Alucard. “A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about killing you.”

“A delightful sentence for anyone to hear after sharing your bed,” Alucard said dryly.

“Fuck off, you—” Trevor’s shoulders sagged, and in that instant Alucard saw the fight drain out of him. “Just—fuck off,” Trevor muttered. “Fuck off and let me talk and stop being such a cunt for once in your damn life, will you?”

Alucard shoved his hands in his pockets and inclined his head.

Trevor took in a shuddering breath, feeling his lungs seared by the cold. Inside was a turmoil of emotions, a whole messy tangle he wasn’t sure how to sort out, or even where to begin. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for a vamp, Leon’s still a good person,” he said, staring out over the valley. “...I think. And now I’m starting to wonder if even—if my family’s history of killing vampires—wasn’t ill-founded. If somewhere along the line, we forgot where we came from and just started killing indiscriminately. Alucard—”

He turned to the dhampir, huddled in his cloak, looking for all the world like a broken man. “How many people like you have the Belmonts killed?”

Alucard wasn’t used to showing outward emotion to anyone who wasn’t Lucian, and even then it was an exercise in caution for him. Despite sleeping cradled against Trevor’s chest many countless nights—it was an easy thing to distance, in this respect.

“I don’t know,” Alucard said softly. 

Trevor snorted. “Fat lot of good you are.”

“Like you ever expected anything of a vampire.”

Their eyes met, and Trevor’s expression softened as he took a step forward, closing the gap between them.

Here, it was raw, unbridled emotion he wasn’t ready for. Trevor knew Alucard’s eyes by now—yellow, shifting between pale gold and dark amber with the light that hit them. He knew the intensity behind the gaze, the wisdom of one who’d grown up far too fast—but this—

Trevor surged forward, pulling Alucard into a desperate kiss. His hands were rough, seeking out every contour of Alucard he hadn’t yet mapped, and it seemed Alucard was trying to do the same to him.

Clinging hands, hot mouths, searching tongues, and despite the cold and the snow, the world shrank until it was just Alucard. Fuck him, but he loved the dhampir, much as they drove each other crazy. He loved the insults, the banter, and—

Lucian and Sypha were lovely, but they were too gentle, too afraid to hurt him. Alucard was all sharp edges, physically and emotionally. Trevor suspected that was why he’d been the one to come out to talk—to smack sense into him, really.

Trevor gasped against Alucard’s mouth when the dhampir’s hands worked their way inside his cloak, gripping his hips and pulling them together. It was no secret what they wanted; both of them were rock hard. 

Alucard paused, pressing his forehead against Trevor’s. “Don’t blame yourself for whatever sins your ancestors might have committed,” he said, his breath sweet from the cider. “And don’t second-guess yourself, either. You’re Trevor _fucking_ Belmont, remember?”

Despite himself, Trevor chuckled, the sound low in the back of his throat. “Why do you think I drink so much to forget?”

“It’s a mystery, for sure.” Alucard sighed and drew back slightly, though their hips remained pressed together. “Frankly I’m surprised you’re more upset with the revelation that you’ve got vampire blood in your veins and _not_ the fact that your many-times great-grandfather and my father—”

Trevor groaned and pulled away, dragging a hand over his face. “God, I don’t even want to _think_ about that,” he muttered.

“You think I’m any happier about it?” Alucard said dryly. A slow smirk curled the corner of his mouth. “The two of them and Trefor—”

“Don’t.”

“Funny how history repeats, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Funny, that.”

Silence between them, pressed shoulder to shoulder as they watched the snow fall, coating the world in a blanket of whiteness. 

“You should come back inside,” Alucard said. “Your lips are turning blue.”

Trevor glanced over at him and grinned tiredly. “Spend a lot of time looking at them, do you?”

“Like I haven’t noticed you looking at mine. Let’s skip the bravado and get you warmed up.” Alucard wrapped an arm around Trevor’s waist, the two of them heading back into the cave.

* * *

After Alucard left to chase after Trevor, everyone remained still around the fire until Lucian and Sypha made a dive for the bucket of holy water to clean off the demon blood that still caked their skin.

“Oh, thank God,” Lucian groaned as she wiped her face. The blood had indeed left angry red rashes like she’d predicted, though they faded almost immediately. “I thought I was going to claw my own skin off.”

Leon watched her with undisguised amusement. “I wouldn’t have minded if you did that while I was talking,” he said. “That’s why it was there.”

“It just seemed rude, though,” Lucian said. She noticed the pug wiggling in Hector’s lap to try and get at the bucket, and her eyes widened. “Kerb—Cezar, _no_ ,” she said. “It’s holy water, you can’t splash in this!” She glanced up at Hector, his arms tight around Cezar’s middle. “...Can he?”

“No.”

Sypha shot Lucian a worried look, her fingers curling around the priest’s forearm. Lucian covered Sypha’s hand with her own and squeezed, taking a steadying breath.

“So you were working with Dracula to wipe out humanity,” Lucian said, her gaze fixed on the forgemaster. 

“Not… wipe out,” Hector said, putting a calming hand on Cezar’s head. “To… cull. Corral, control, put what was left into pens so humanity would stop being a blight on the land.”

Lucian and Sypha stared; Leon looked resigned, like he’d heard the reasoning before. 

“ _Why?_ ” Sypha asked. “You’re human, too, aren’t you?”

Hector pursed his lips. “Only because my forging abilities would no longer work, were I to become a vampire.” He gave Lucian a long, hard stare, his eyes flickering to the brands at her wrists. “You’ve seen human cruelty, and yet you still defend them.”

“I’ve seen human cruelty,” Lucian said, her fingers curling around her cloak, balling it against her palms. “From the men who raised me, and from the man who _killed my mother and brother_.” She fixed Hector with a look. “But I’ve also seen kindness, immense kindness and generosity. And—” She glanced at Sypha, reaching out, brushing her thumb over the back of the Speaker’s hand. “And love. And—”

Lucian looked back to Hector, who was watching her, his expression guarded. “And forgiveness,” she finally said. “I’m—I don’t know that I could forgive you, but—” She broke off, looking away.

“You are a very bitter and hateful man,” Sypha said, glaring at Hector.

Hector levelled his gaze at her. “Tell me, Speaker,” he said, his voice dry, “have you never experienced oppression at the hands of your fellow man? Never once wondered why the world had to exist in its current state?”

Sypha stood, her hair rising around her head with the crackle of electricity. “Tell _me,_ forgemaster,” she said, her voice deadly and cold, “have you not wondered why a person with all the reason to want you dead put herself between you and a hunter’s weapon to vouch for your life? It’s because she’s _kind._ And you—” She advanced across the circle, skirting around the fire pit, to jab Hector in the chest. “—are too bitter and self-absorbed to so much as thank her for sticking her neck out for you when it would have been just as easy to let me burn your head from your shoulders.”

Hector just stared up at her, his face impassive. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he said, and Sypha scoffed, whirling away.

“Hector is my ally,” Leon said, putting a hand on Sypha’s elbow. “And…” He glanced at the forgemaster, who was determinedly focused on Cezar. “Dare I say, a friend. I’d thank you to not go burning his head from his shoulders.” His tone was friendly, but his deep crimson eyes held the faintest hint of a warning. 

Sypha met his gaze, and nodded once. Leon dropped his hand, and Sypha went back to sit by Lucian’s side, wrapping an arm around her.

Leon focused on Hector. “I’d been keeping an eye on the creatures you made for the council,” he said, and Hector stiffened. “Compared to that vine horror you made—impressive work, by the way,” he added, and a faint pink crept into Hector’s cheeks. “—you weren’t working with your usual tools, were you?”

Hector glanced at Lucian, who cleared her throat. 

“Lucian returned the coins I bonded with,” Hector said after a long silence, ignoring the quiet hiss from Sypha. 

“Lucian—” Sypha began, but Lucian looked away.

“We needed all the help we could get,” she said quietly. “I trusted him enough to help us get out of the castle. That was it.” She stood up, eyes on Hector, and jerked her head to the back of the cavern. “Walk with me?”

Hector hesitated, but stood, setting Cezar on the ground at his feet. The pug barked and ran over to Lucian, front paws scrabbling against her shin. She smiled down at him, glanced up at Hector, and sighed, tucking her thumbs through her sash as she strode away.

He glanced at Sypha, who stared back at him, her expression cold, and then at Leon, who merely inclined his head after Lucian.

So Hector followed her around a bend in the cave, where the light of the fires didn’t reach and all they had to see by was a pair of lights Lucian sent to hover by her shoulders. 

She turned to face Hector, the lights throwing strange shadows on her face, her expression unreadable. They stared each other down for a long moment before Lucian spoke.

“Why.”

A single word—a question, a plea, an admission of all the pain she’d had to endure. Hector studied her, wondering how old she was; she looked so young and… _tired._

Lucian suddenly ducked her head, hissing rapidly through her teeth— _fft-fft-fft_ —and Hector used the moment to look away, studying the stalactites that dripped toward the cave floor.

“I suppose because I wanted to see justice in the world,” Hector said at long last. “Humanity is beyond saving—don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same. I’ve seen the marks you bear.”

One of Lucian’s hands loosely closed around the opposite wrist. “I want justice as well,” she said. “What you did, what you helped perpetuate? That wasn’t justice. It was slaughter.”

“I didn’t know Dracula planned to wipe out the human race,” Hector protested. “I never wanted that, never stood for it—”

“So putting everyone into pens—for what, to be _livestock?_ —was so much better?” Lucian gripped her hair, staring at him. “How can you fucking _justify_ that? After living as the council’s slave for _how_ long?”

“That’s… different,” Hector said, looking away.

“No, look at me,” Lucian said, folding her arms. Hector glanced up at her, and she took a deep breath. “You can’t justify it, can you? Not after all of that. I don’t know what weird hate-on you have for humans, but whoever hurt you isn’t all of us! So what the fuck is your problem?!”

“They deserved—”

Lucian stepped forward, nose to nose with him, staring him down. “Mama sacrificed everything so my brother and I would have full stomachs and a roof over our heads at night,” she said, her voice frigid. “Gavril was so bright and full of life and an _artisan_ with his hands, but he wasn’t even eighteen years old before your night creatures _burned him in his bed._ So you’d better have a good fucking reason for telling me _they deserved it._ ” 

Her gaze bore into him, and Hector took a step back, fingers tightening around the other arm as he looked away.

All at once, the rage and anger in her face faded, and Lucian’s shoulders slumped. Hector almost wished she’d go back to the anger; it was better than the _pity._

The silence stretched between them, neither wanting to be the first to back down.

“Who… hurt you?” she finally said, and he deigned to look at her—and instantly regretted it.

The pain and loss was laid out like a book with her. He would have preferred if she screamed at him, if she’d hit him, if she’d do anything other than _that._

“It doesn’t matter,” Hector said curtly.

“I think it does.” Lucian’s voice was soft. “You wouldn’t be clinging to…” She waved a hand. “Whatever crazy ideals you have otherwise.” 

Hector was silent.

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt,” Lucian said. “But you’re directing your anger at the wrong people.” She closed her eyes briefly before looking up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to kill you,” she said after a long silence. “And Leon seems to like you well enough. You won’t see trouble from me or my friends so long as you’re with us.” She levelled her gaze at him. “But the instant you go back to your old ways?”

The unspoken threat told him everything.

She turned on her heel to leave, only pausing when Hector caught her sleeve.

“ _What,_ ” she said flatly.

The seconds stretched between them.

“Thank you,” Hector said, hoping she heard the sincerity in his voice. “For freeing me. It would have been easier for you to kill me instead.”

Lucian jerked her arm free, her face contorting. “ _I know._ ”

Hector watched her round the corner, taking the lights with her and leaving him in darkness.

Cezar whined at his feet, and he sighed, picking the pug up to give him much-deserved tummy rubs. “I know,” Hector murmured. “I know.”


	59. Chapter 59

When Lucian returned to the fire, she saw Trevor and Alucard were back, snow melting in Alucard’s gorgeous hair. She snatched up her abandoned tankard to avoid staring and drank deeply, trying to chase away the talk with Hector.

He followed her not long after, Cezar cradled in his arms, and when he took his seat next to Leon and set the pug down, Cezar ran over to Lucian, tail wagging. She reluctantly reached down to pet him, refusing to meet Hector’s eyes.

Sypha cleared her throat. “I think we left off in the middle of your story?”

Leon sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling in contemplation.”I’m not sure there’s much left to say.”

“The Brotherhood of Light?” Hector said, his patience growing thin. “How you knew to come to Styria? How just six people were able to hold off a vampire invasion at the border?”

“Ah. That.” Leon glanced at Lucian. “I assume you know what a living relic is?”

“Yeah, thanks to my friends,” Lucian said tersely. “Miracles, persecuted as witches, blah blah blah.”

Leon chuckled softly. “Well, you’re not wrong,” he said. He fell silent for a long moment, contemplating the fire. “It was some years after Victoria’s death,” he finally said. “Our son Marius left the estate with me. His children—my grandchildren—were more human than vampire, and it was soon becoming clear that they aged as humans do.”

“You couldn’t bear to say goodbye,” Sypha said quietly, and Leon nodded once, a stiff, jerky movement.

“He and I travelled at night together, heading west. We felt it was better to break things off quickly, rather than linger and watch our family grow old without us.” Leon’s eyes watered with crimson, but he took a deep breath and pressed on. “Marius and I wanted to return to France, but one night during our travels, we were ambushed. Vampire hunters who had been tracking us for… I don’t know how long. Marius didn’t survive.”

Lucian sucked in a sharp breath; Sypha reached out for Trevor’s hand, and he returned the gesture, though his expression was guarded.

“The cloth you took,” Leon said, looking to Lucian. “I tore it from his tunic that night. I couldn’t waste time with a burial; I burned his body and returned to France alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucian whispered, her fingers pressed against her mouth. “I didn’t mean to take it in the first place, but I’d never—”

“I know,” Leon said, giving her a tired smile. “You returned it, and that’s what matters.”

Lucian’s face twisted. “It was an accident, I swear,” she said. “I mean—not picking it up, but taking it with me—I meant to put it back, I would have, I—”

Leon held up a hand, forestalling her tripping over words. “I’m sure you’re being honest,” he said. “It’s hard, learning how to control your abilities on your own. But…” He glanced up at the knights, most of them busy cleaning their armour and weapons. “You could learn. If you came with us.”

Lucian froze, the only part of her moving her eyes as they flicked from Leon to the knights to her companions. The tingle of holy energy in the cave, lurking at the edges of her senses, seemed to become more pronounced with the realisation of what she was looking at. 

“They’re all like you,” Leon said. “Living relics. Which is how such a small number of us were able to hold the border—well.” He glanced at Hector before inclining his head towards Lucian. “You saw what she did to Carmilla.”

Hector gave Lucian a wary look. “That explains why we couldn’t find any bodies,” he said. “Any forces sent out to the border, just—gone.”

Leon smiled thinly. “Simple, but efficient,” he said, nodding. “As for why we were in Styria—Hette was in the area. We’d caught wind of Dracula’s attacks too late to help, but we knew the fallout from his death could be disastrous. So the Brotherhood scattered to check in on what each of Dracula’s known generals were doing… and found almost all of them dead. I suppose that was you and your friends’ doing?” he asked Trevor, who nodded.

“But _how_ did you come to be working with the Brotherhood?” Hector asked, leaning forward. “If they hunt vampires—”

“I founded them,” Leon said. “Perhaps three centuries ago, now. Knights have come and gone, but the purpose remains the same: to travel and hunt monsters.”

“Like the Belmonts,” Sypha said, her eyebrows flying up. “Was… can I ask something personal?”

Leon inclined his head. 

“Were you trying to… not replace your family, but fill the void?” Sypha asked, and Leon considered the question for a moment.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” he said. “I was lonely, yes, but mostly I was driven to understand. I met—” He hesitated, glancing at Lucian again, who frowned back at him. “—the first relic about maybe three hundred years ago? She’d been driven from her homelands, persecuted as a witch, and I offered to work with her—teach her how to fight and help her experiment with her powers. And meanwhile, we travelled, searching for answers as to what she was—collecting what information we could, and eventually running into a young man like her, who joined us. We ended up settling in an abandoned cathedral in Toulouse and made it into a home.”

“And you want Lucian to go there with you when you leave,” Alucard said, an edge to his voice.

“Ideally, yes,” Leon said. “Though I’d prefer if all of you came, as well.” And he affixed Hector with a look before glancing at Trevor. “I’m sure you especially still have questions.”

Trevor’s jaw set, but he nodded once, a curt movement.

Lucian glanced sidelong at Hector, her nostrils flaring. “And if I did come with you—would you expect me to stay? Become one of your knights?”

“Only if that’s what you wished,” Leon said. “You’d be free to leave whenever you liked, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Silence around the fire.

“It’s a big thing to ask,” Leon said, standing. “I’ll let you think on it. In the meantime, if you’ll excuse me? I need to help with preparations.” He ran a hand over the Morning Star before holding it back out to Trevor, who took it, careful not to let his fingers brush with Leon’s.

They watched Leon walk over to Roisin, and their heads bent together, speaking in low voices.

Hector realised he was still wearing Leon’s cloak, and thought for a moment of returning it before deciding if Leon needed it back, he would have asked. It didn’t escape him the looks the others were giving him.

“Alright,” Sypha said, standing up and brushing herself off, “team meeting.”

Hector watched the four of them retreat to the back of the cavern and sank a little lower in his cloak, cradling Cezar and feeling very alone.

Sypha stopped when they were out of sight of the knights, crossing her arms as she studied the others. “So what do we think?”

“Leon’s still hiding something,” Lucian said immediately, and was met with a quiet series of agreements. “He keeps looking at me before changing whatever he was going to say.”

“Agreed,” Trevor said. He still hadn’t re-affixed the Morning Star to his belt, instead holding it loosely in his hands like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “But if we’re being realistic here—we’re not going to learn anything _not_ going with them.”

Alucard’s shoulders were stiff as he folded his arms. “How do we know he didn’t lie about everything else, if it’s this obvious he’s hiding something from us?”

“I mean—he _was_ telling the truth about the others being relics,” Lucian said, and he glanced at her. “That holy energy I felt in my dream—I feel it here, too.” She dragged her fingers through her hair and let out a slow breath. “I thought I was the only one.”

“So did we,” Sypha said. “But if you could learn more about how to control your powers… and Trevor got to learn more about his family…”

“Yeah, after finding out great-something-granddad fucked _Dracula_ , I don’t know I want to,” Trevor said, making a face, and Alucard’s expression mirrored his. 

Lucian hugged herself uncomfortably, flinching when Alucard put a deliberate hand on her wrist. “You remember as well as I do, the last time we trusted people to be genuine in their intentions.”

A cold hand closed around her heart and she drew away; he made no move to stop her. 

“I do,” she whispered. “But I think he’s telling the truth this time.”

“Except for the bits he’s obviously leaving out,” Sypha said, tapping her chin. “But we’re good with mysteries.” She grimaced. “If nothing else, I’m sure this has to end better than…” She trailed off, and Trevor wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “There’s also the chance that Hector will go with Leon,” she added, and Lucian swallowed. “Would you still want to go, knowing he’ll be there?”

Lucian looked at Trevor and Alucard; the dhampir inclined his head towards her. _Your decision_.

“We should at least go to keep an eye on him,” she decided, and Trevor nodded.

“And get to the bottom of whatever this little organisation actually does,” he said. “Nobody spends four hundred years a vampire and comes out of it changed for the better.”

“My father was proof enough of that,” Alucard murmured. His expression was inscrutable as he leaned up against the wall of the cavern, watching Lucian.

“I say we go,” Trevor said. “If shit really goes down, baby Jesus can always vaporise Leon while we deal with everyone else. And if that fucking forgemaster makes any more monsters—we’ve handled the worst he’s thrown at us before.”

“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t kill him when you had the chance,” Alucard said, his gaze boring into Lucian.

“He was defenseless,” Lucian said, her jaw set. “Alucard, the council had him enslaved—he had a ring on him that kept him bound to their wills. Believe me, I—the thought crossed my mind, but it would have been _wrong._ You weren’t there. You didn’t see him.”

Trevor shook his head. “Don’t tell me you feel _bad_ for him.”

“I…” Lucian’s fingers loosely closed around the opposite wrist. “I think I do.”

“He’s under Leon’s protection now, as it would seem, so the point is moot,” Sypha said. “I agree with Trevor: find out what Leon’s hiding and keep an eye on the forgemaster. But until we know what Leon’s not telling us—assume we can’t trust him.” Her voice went cold. “None of them.” She turned and stalked back to the warmth of the main cavern.

“I’d… better go with her,” Trevor said awkwardly, and followed, still gingerly holding the Morning Star.

Lucian felt Alucard’s eyes on her, and she turned to him. His yellow eyes were piercing in the darkness.

“At the first sign of trouble, we leave,” Alucard said, his voice low. “I won’t have… _that_ happening again.”

Lucian held out her hands to him. He hesitated, but pushed off from the wall, taking her hands in his. She squeezed them carefully. 

“We’ve got Trevor and Sypha with us this time,” Lucian said, pressing their foreheads together. “We’ll be okay, Alucard. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m not.”

His gaze flickered up to meet hers, and she smiled, a little nervously.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t end terribly like last time,” Alucard murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth before following Trevor and Sypha.

Lucian remained alone with her conjured lights, and sighed before she extinguished them, leaving her in the dark.


	60. Chapter 60

They departed earlier than planned, when it was still daylight. Roisin would be in charge of transporting the wagon and horses; apparently she was the most powerful of the knights, so was assigned the most difficult task. Everyone else partnered up with the remaining knights, and Lucian found herself on Lorenzo’s arm, surprised to note he was shorter than she’d thought.

And there was something oddly familiar about the way he carried himself…

“May we return to Styria under kinder circumstances,” Leon said when everyone was ready. “But for now—let’s go home.”

Lucian clutched Lorenzo’s arm tighter when they slipped into the Infinite Corridor, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the swirl of colours when they threatened to overwhelm her senses. 

_Time._

_Endless. Boundless._

“You can open your eyes now,” Lorenzo said, sounding amused. 

She did; the prickle at the back of her neck remained even though they were no longer between dimensions. That was driven swiftly from her mind when she got a look at the cathedral.

It was a magnificent Romanesque building, towering several stories high and yet managing to look strangely compact, its towers and side wings crowded against the central building. A lone central tower dominated the rest, drawing the eye skyward. The impression it gave off was less that of a cathedral, and more that of a castle.

“This was abandoned?” Sypha said incredulously, letting go of Maud’s arm to step forward.

“You have night creatures to thank for that,” Roisin said, handing the horses off to Lorenzo to lead to the stables. “There was a whole nest of them that had to be cleared out before this place was liveable. Nobody else’s wanted to come near it since; we finished the rest of the construction ourselves over the centuries.”

“We?” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow.

“The Brotherhood,” Hette said. She was a young German woman with thick blonde hair, which she kept in elaborate braids to tuck beneath the helmet presently under her arm. “It’s our home; of course we wouldn’t want it to be a half-finished ruin.”

“Right. And where’d Leon go?”

“I brought him to the crypts,” Basile said, appearing from thin air. Trevor startled, and his hand instinctively twitched toward the Morning Star. “It’s safest for him down there, where sunlight can’t reach.”

“Vampires sleeping in crypts beneath a cathedral,” Trevor said, casting a side-eye toward Alucard. “Wonder where I’ve seen that before.”

Alucard flipped him off.

Lucian turned away from the magnificent building to see they were on a hilltop, overlooking a city in a river valley several miles away. 

“What’s that?” she asked. “That city, I mean.”

“The city of Toulouse,” Mateo said. He pulled his shoulder-length hair out of its ponytail, shaking out the chestnut strands. “Capital of the region. It’s a far cry from Castile, but it’s not a bad place to visit when it’s not on fire.” He grimaced. “Or if you’re not a Cathar.”

“...What’s wrong with Cathars?” Lucian asked tentatively.

Mateo shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “But the church seems to love using them for kindling.”

Lucian shot a glance at Alucard, who’d gone very still.

“We do what we can,” Mateo said tiredly. “But there’s only six of us, seven if you count Sieur Trantoul.”

“Why do you call him that?”

“Habit, I suppose?” Mateo turned, motioning for her to come with him. “It’s a long shot anybody would recognise his name now, let alone his face, but he feels safer if we call him by that when referring to him outside of the cathedral. It just becomes second nature before long.”

Lucian trailed after him, and Sypha, Trevor, and Alucard followed. 

Stepping through the cathedral doors was like walking into a warm bath, and Lucian realised what she’d been feeling in the dream and in the cave were both muted compared to the sheer radiance that seemed to fill the building. It wasn’t consecrated—she doubted it had ever been—but God help the night creature that would try to attack this place.

Maud and Roisin brought up the rear, keeping Hector in front of them. He was already beginning to regret his decision to go with Leon, but he had nowhere left to go—and if he was being honest with himself, the vampire intrigued him enough he wanted to stay. Just for a little while.

He got none of the sense of relief Lucian did, walking into the cathedral. This was like oil and water at best—they weren’t meant to mix.

“Hector, how about you come with me,” Hette said, touching his elbow to get his attention and leading him from the nave to the living quarters. Cezar trotted behind them, seemingly unconcerned with the holy energy that permeated the building.

Lucian watched them go, gnawing her lip. She didn’t like letting him out of her sight.

Sypha’s hand crept into Lucian’s, meaning to be reassuring, but Lucian glanced over at her and smiled. 

“It’s alright,” she said. “This place… it’s different from Gresit.”

“I should hope so,” Trevor said, folding his arms. “Gresit was a shithole at best. Oh, sorry,” he added sarcastically, glancing over his shoulder at Roisin. “Are we not allowed to swear in the house of God?”

“We don’t fucking care, mate,” Roisin said. Maud gave her a low high-five, which she returned. “It’s our house first; place never got consecrated, after all.”

A slow grin spread on Trevor’s face. “Maybe you lot aren’t so bad as I thought.”

“We’ll show you to your rooms, and after that—do what you like with the rest of the day,” Maud said. “We’ve all been sleeping in a cave for the last two and a half months and I am _ready_ for my own bed.”

“Or show you to a room,” Roisin said, raising an eyebrow.

Lucian’s face went bright red and Alucard coughed, and Trevor suddenly became very interested in examining the columns that lined the nave.

“One room, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Sypha said, smiling sweetly.

Roisin waved a hand. “Leon let us know that might be in the cards. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Blab it out to everyone, sure,” Trevor said grumpily. “Maybe we should hire a town crier while we’re at it.”

“Is he always this melodramatic?” Mateo asked, and Sypha had to stifle a laugh.

“This is him showing restraint,” Alucard said, never one to pass up the opportunity to get a dig in at Trevor.

"Shut up." 

Lucian sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Is there anywhere off-limits while we’re here?”

“Go where you like, do as you please,” Maud said, shrugging. 

“Just don’t bother Sieur while he’s asleep,” Lorenzo added as he came in behind them, pulling the enormous doors shut. “He won’t bite or anything, but he’ll be sulky for the next few hours.”

“As you found out the hard way,” Maud said, slapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble half a step.

* * *

It was less a cathedral, Lucian thought as Maud and Roisin led them past a cloister garden surrounded by gleaming white walls, and more like an abbey. Nevertheless, it was beautiful, and she felt much more at home here than she ever did back in Gresit. Though, she suspected, the inhabitants being significantly nicer probably had something to do with it.

“It seems like a lot of space for just seven people,” Alucard said, and Roisin sighed as she turned a corner.

“Used to be a lot more of us,” she said. “Dunno what it is, but we’ve been finding fewer relics over the years, and even fewer still who want to join us. And…” She cast a glance over her shoulder at Lucian, who raised a slow eyebrow in return. “Well, the rest, Sieur Trantoul wanted to tell you himself.”

“So there _is_ more to his story?” Sypha said, and Roisin hesitated, pausing before a simple wooden door.

“Yes,” she said at last, pushing the door ajar. “But it’s not my place to say. Here’s you lot, then—you can push the beds together if you want, we’ll get blankets sorted before night. If you’re hungry, the larder’s down that hall, down a set of stairs, big archway on the right in the kitchen, you can’t miss it. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“I could sleep for about a month,” Maud said, twining her fingers through Roisin’s. “Lucian—friends—welcome to the _Cathédrale Sainte-Christina._ ”

The two women headed down the hall, and Trevor, Sypha, Alucard, and Lucian looked at one another.

Trevor rolled his shoulders, shrugged, and pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

A pair of wide beds with bare mattresses stood against the opposite wall, and a large chest of drawers with a basin of water on top was against the wall near the door. In the corner, a simple wooden table and chairs.

“It’s…” Alucard looked around. “Sparse.”

“It’s _incredible,_ ” Sypha said, going to one of the beds and sitting down, testing the mattress with her hands before flopping back with a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can wait for blankets; I could just fall asleep right now.”

“It’s been a long day,” Lucian agreed. But she was practically quivering with excitement, itching to run off and explore every little nook and cranny the cathedral had to offer. Back in Gresit, she’d known all the best hiding spots, the best corners in which to tuck away with a crust of bread or an apple, the best escape routes if one of the priests was about to catch the altar boys breaking the rules. 

“No shit it’s been a long day,” Trevor said, making a face. “And to top it off, we just had Roisin tell us to our faces there’s more they’re hiding from us.”

Alucard glanced at Lucian, pursing his lips. “I think,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “it’s not so much that they’re hiding something as waiting for the right time.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound ominous,” Lucian said, scrunching her nose. “I’m gonna go explore. Anybody else?”

By way of answer, Sypha kicked off her shoes and lay fully on the bed, pulling her cloak over her head to block out the light. 

“I don’t know how you’re not exhausted,” Alucard said, letting his hand rest lightly at the small of Lucian’s back. She leaned into his touch briefly before drawing away.

“Well, you know me,” she said, hooking her thumbs through her waist sash. “Stay up through all hours, forget lunch, and fall asleep on the floor with a book on my face… hm. Maybe I’ll see if there’s a library here…”

“You do that,” Trevor groaned as he lay down beside Sypha. “Have fun playing Jesus with your new knight friends.”

Lucian looked up at Alucard, who shook his head and stole a quick kiss from her. “Enjoy yourself,” he said, and something dark passed over his face. “But be careful. We don’t know much about these people yet.”

“I _will_ ,” Lucian promised, and disappeared out the door before he could voice any more protests.

“She’ll be fine,” Trevor said, draping his cloak over himself and Sypha. “The knights have already started acting like she’s one of them.”

Alucard slowly closed the door, leaning his forehead against it. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m worried.”

* * *

“So,” Hette said, leaning in the doorway with folded arms as she watched Hector examine his new quarters. “Heard you wanted to wipe out humanity, huh?”

Hector bit back a sigh and picked up Cezar, finding the dog’s presence calming against what he was certain would be another onslaught of questions and accusations. “Not exactly,” he said, smiling faintly when Cezar licked his hand. “Dracula promised a controlled population, with the remaining humans well cared for.”

Hette hummed quietly. “You know, I think most people would rather be dead than live like that. Seems like a pretty bleak existence to me.”

Hector’s hand closed into a loose fist as he stared at the spot where the ring once was.

“Still,” Hette said, beginning to unwind her braids, “Sieur Trantoul seems to like you well enough. I suppose he has his reasons. Larder’s down the staircase if you’re hungry.”

“Are you… not here to guard me?” Hector asked slowly. 

Hette shrugged. “Just here to show you where you’ll be staying, is all. Go where you like, just don’t bother Sieur while he’s sleeping or he’ll pout for ages. Which is admittedly hilarious, but still—best not to disturb him.” She glanced up at the ceiling in thought. “I guess those are really the only rules, though I’d advise from the history you have with our other guests to not get in their way. Wouldn’t want a fight breaking out, especially because Basile would be the one to clean up the mess and he’ll whine about it.”

Despite his trepidation at his newfound living situation, Hector couldn’t help but chuckle, which got a grin from Hette, showing off the gap in her front teeth. 

“Your dog got a name?” she asked, nodding at the pug in his arms.

“Cezar,” he said, drifting a little closer to her.

“Hullo, Cezar,” Hette said, reaching out for him to sniff. Cezar did so and licked her fingers, and Hette’s grin widened before she gently scritched under his chin. “Never met a nice night creature before.”

“He’s not exactly a night creature,” Hector said. “More like… a reanimated animal. He still has the same soul he did before he died.”

“Like necromancy?” 

“A second chance at life,” Hector said firmly. “Which he seems to be enjoying a lot more now that he’s got you doting on him.”

Cezar barked his approval. 

“I’ll see if I can’t find him a nice bone or two,” Hette said. “Uh—if he likes bones?”

“He loves them,” Hector said, deciding it would be tactful to not mention they were usually spare ribs from the bodies he was about to forge.

“Right.” Hette rocked back on her heels and stifled a yawn. “Well, I’ll see you around, I suppose?”

“I think so,” Hector said, and Hette nodded and disappeared out the door.

Hector sat on the bed, staring around at the walls with a strange sense of detachment. It was a far cry from the lavish accommodations of his outbuilding prison in Styria, with just a bed, a dresser, and a washbasin—but here, he was free.

Maybe he would spend a few days here, gather his strength, and then return to Rhodes. Get himself a new hammer made, and go back to working with his animals in peace and solitude.

“What do you think, Cezar?” he murmured, setting the pug on the bed next to him. 

Cezar curled up and put his nose on his paws, yawning.

“That sounds like a plan,” Hector agreed, and lay back on the bed, folding his hands on his stomach as he stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to take him.

* * *

Lucian took a quick trip down the stairs in search of the larder, and found herself in an enormous kitchen that would put the one in Gresit to shame. But the larder was, in fact, the archway on the right, and she helped herself to a lump of cheese after a quick sniff determined it was cow’s milk and not sheep’s. She nibbled on it as she walked, quickly getting lost among the mazelike corridors and enjoying every second of it.

She couldn’t shake the feeling nagging at the nape of her neck—a prickle, almost like the way her hairs rose right before Sypha cast one of her lightning spells. The same feeling from travelling the Infinite Corridor, but it remained, even here in the physical world.

She didn’t like it.

Lucian tried to push it out of her mind, making a mental note to bring it up to her… friends? companions? lovers? as soon as possible. For now, she had an entire cathedral to explore.

Between the attack on Styria, Leon’s story, and her own wanderings, she hadn’t realised just how much time had passed before she found the bell tower steps and began to climb, emerging to a brisk wind as the sun was sinking below the horizon.

She ducked between the diagonal beams from which the enormous bell hung to sit in one of the windows, her back against a supporting stone column that held up the roof. Lucian let one leg dangle out over the edge as she watched the sun set, the lanterns of Toulouse the faintest pinpricks of embers in the distance as darkness fell and the stars came out.

Scarcely a year ago she’d taken her vows as a priest, and now here she was—a refugee of the church, a hunter of monsters able to hold her own in battle, a miracle worker back from the dead, and on top of all that, a sexual deviant to boot.

Lucian grinned and fished the last bit of cheese from her pocket, popping it in her mouth and rolling it between her teeth as she savoured the taste. She didn’t know what the Brotherhood had in store, or what the coming year or month or even week would hold, but she’d just have to take it as it came.

And there was a prickle at the back of her neck, different this time, and she looked away from the city in the distance to see Leon emerging from the stairs. He paused when he saw her, then ducked between the support beams for the bell to stand beside her. “May I join you?”

“Uh… sure, I guess?” Lucian tucked her knee to her chest, and Leon sat in the window with her, letting both his legs dangle over the edge. “Were you looking for me?”

“I just woke up, actually,” Leon said. “I like to come up here to watch the moonrise.” He smiled wistfully. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sun.”

“You must miss it.”

He nodded, leaning back on his hands. “I do. Though there’s a certain peacefulness to the night I’ve come to enjoy. I find it’s easier to think of it not in terms of what I lost, but what I gained.”

Lucian turned his words over in her mind, gnawing on her lip. _Fft-fft-fft_ — “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Leon glanced over at her. “For what?”

“For…” Lucian gestured at her mouth. 

Leon shrugged. “Don’t apologise. You’re far from the first person I’ve met with little quirks like that. Certainly not the first relic, either.”

Lucian felt warmth seep through her at that and she wiggled a little in her seat, finally allowing herself to grin when Leon shot her a smile. Knowing she wasn’t the only one… it seemed there was a special sort of feeling to the revelation, no matter the context.

“I will say,” Leon said, looking back out over the valley, “I’m glad I ran into you; I was hoping to talk to you alone at some point.”

“Is this about what you weren’t saying before?” Lucian asked before she could stop herself. “In the cave?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid it seems to have put you all rather on edge.”

Lucian’s fingers curled loosely around the brand on the opposite wrist. “Alucard and I put our trust in the wrong people, once,” she said, looking away. “I died because of it.”

Leon sucked in a sharp hiss of air, and Lucian’s head shot up. 

“Is that—not normal?” she said anxiously. “I mean even more not normal than it already is, but even for people like me?”

“No, it’s… normal,” Leon said, and sighed. “I’m just sorry you had to find out like that. It was one of the things I wished to talk to you about.”

“Why not in front of my…?”

“Friends?” Leon supplied with a wry smile, and she nodded, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Because there are some uncomfortable truths I’m going to have to tell you, and I feel it should be your decision whether or not you wish to tell them in turn.”

Lucian made a face. “Yeah, last time I kept something a secret from them, it didn’t go so well.”

Leon’s eyes were piercing as he studied her. “I’ll still leave it in your hands, what you wish to share if anything.”

She licked her lips nervously, foot jittering as her stomach twisted in anticipatory knots. “A-alright…” 

Still, Leon hesitated, like he wasn’t sure where to begin. Finally, he let out a soft huff of laughter. “You know, I usually take on the responsibility with everyone new who joins the Brotherhood, but it never really gets easier to say.” He cleared his throat. “I mentioned in my tale, of how I founded the Brotherhood—I met a young woman with whom I travelled and found this cathedral with. Her name was Roisin Ua Cleirigh, and she’s been my second in command ever since.”

An overwhelming sense akin to vertigo struck Lucian, and the air suddenly felt too thin to breathe. “But,” she whispered, “you said that was three hundred years ago.”

“Perhaps closer to two hundred and eighty. But… yes.” 

“The same Roisin I met?”

“Yes.”

Lucian’s heart hammered in her chest, thudding unevenly as she let it sink in. Her voice was tiny when she finally spoke. “ _Oh._ ”

“We’re not sure why,” Leon said, and it was clear he was choosing his words carefully, watching her reaction. “It seems there are very few things that can truly kill a living relic, and the most common one is simply… choosing to move on.”

“What—what does that mean?” Lucian asked, latching onto it like a lifeline. Her head was swimming.

Leon shrugged. “I’m told it’s like a sense of peace,” he said. “My old comrades in arms simply realised their time on Earth was done and vanished. It won’t happen suddenly,” he added hastily when Lucian’s eyes went huge. “They all chose when it happened—said farewells. But none of them left a body behind.”

“So all those—all those jokes I made, about how if I died, just give it a few days…?”

“A bit more truth to them than you realised,” Leon said, his voice dry. “I suppose you noticed when you overwork yourself, you get exhausted, maybe even pass out?”

“I… yes, but I’ve been getting stronger, building up my reserves—” She broke off when Leon shook his head.

“Your body is acting as a channel for incredible power,” Leon said. “You’re not increasing your reserves, but your endurance. Too much and you’ll overload—be left incapacitated while you recover and heal.”

“Like… with dying.” Lucian swallowed and realised her hands were trembling, and she quickly folded them in her lap, hoping Leon didn’t notice. 

“Like with dying,” he agreed.

“... _Fuck._ ”

Leon laughed, startled, before composing himself. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” Lucian said, a little distantly. “I’d have laughed, too.”

“If you’d decided not to come with us, I would have pulled you aside, told you before we left,” Leon said, looking back out over the valley. “It’s something you deserve to know. I’m sorry to place such a burden on your shoulders.”

_Fft-fft-fft-fft-fft-fft—_

Lucian bit down on her lip, hard, before taking a deep breath. “I’d rather find out now than… years from now, as a slow realisation over time.”

Leon was silent for a long moment, and she wondered if he was thinking about his son and grandchildren.

“There are definitely crueler ways,” he said at long last. “But no easy ones.”

“I can’t imagine there are,” Lucian agreed quietly. “But… thank you for trying.” She fiddled with her fingers, turning them over each other.

_Time._

_The infinite possibilities._

“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly.

“I feel obligated to point out you just did,” Leon said, smiling, and she appreciated the attempt at levity. “But go ahead.”

“When we were travelling through the Infinite Corridor, there was a sort of sensation, like… electricity. But I can still feel it, even though we’re here. Does that have to do with the whole…” Lucian waved an aimless hand.

“Ah,” Leon said, and she got the sense she’d stumbled directly into the one thing he’d not wanted to talk about just yet. “Yes, of course you’d be able to feel that. With time and practice, you’d be able to tap into the Infinite Corridor like the others do—slip in and out of it as easily as if it were water. The more you do, though, the more attuned you become to… leaks, I suppose would be the most accurate term, but we prefer to call them portals.”

“And there’s one somewhere in the cathedral,” Lucian said with dawning horror.

Leon nodded. “In the crypt, as a matter of fact.” He paused and grimaced. “Approximately five feet away from my bed.” 

  
“Oh my _God_.” Lucian dragged her hands down her face. “Sypha is _not_ going to take this well.”


	61. Chapter 61

Sypha did not take it well.

Lucian tried to break the news gently, but in hindsight, sitting at the foot of the bed in one of the chairs, watching Sypha anxiously until the Speaker’s eyes fluttered open to see Lucian practically vibrating in her chair from the nerves wasn’t the best way to go about it.

“Lucian?” Sypha asked, sitting up immediately, and Trevor and Alucard stirred next to her. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s a portal to the Infinite Corridor here,” Lucian blurted out, and Trevor shot up in bed, staring at her.

“... _No_ ,” Sypha whispered, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “Lucian, no. Tell me you’re joking. This is a horrible joke.”

Alucard propped himself up on one elbow, brushing strands of hair out of his face. “Whatever is going on, we need to start over,” he said. “Lucian? What happened?”

Lucian’s face was pale and she was shaking slightly. Sypha leaned over to grip her shoulders, staring at her, eyes flickering over her face, searching for any hint that she’d been mistaken, that she’d—

“I saw it,” Lucian said, and Sypha’s fingers dug in out of reflex. “It’s in the crypts—Leon showed me.”

“I _knew_ he was hiding something,” Trevor growled. “But this? Move your legs,” he added, prodding Alucard’s hip so he could extract himself from between the other two. “Christ, you’re built like a twig.”

For once, Alucard didn’t snap back, shifting over into Trevor’s vacated space to put a careful hand on Sypha’s arm. “You’re shaking,” he said, and Sypha dropped her hands from Lucian’s shoulders to cover her mouth.

Lucian pulled her into a hug, and Sypha clung back, Trevor coming around the bed to put an arm around her.

“This can’t end up like—”

“It won’t,” Trevor said firmly. “If nothing else, there’s only, what, twelve of us in the cathedral now? And I’m sure Lucian at least would have noticed if there were any night creatures running around—”

Lucian shook her head, but Sypha pulled back, her jaw set. “But now there’s a forgemaster living with us,” Sypha said. “Who knows what he could do if he learns there’s a portal here?”

A dead silence fell over the room as they contemplated the possibilities. Trevor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Can you take us to it?” Alucard asked. “If we could see what we’re dealing with, we could better come up with a plan.”

“Sypha?” Lucian said, biting her lip. “Will you be okay to—”

Sypha pushed Trevor’s arm away and stood up, nodding determinedly. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Lucian led them down to the crypts, which were surprisingly well-lit and warm. 

“No coffins, huh?” Trevor said, glancing around at the busts in the alcoves that lined the walls. 

“I mean, the cathedral wasn’t finished when the Brotherhood moved in,” Lucian pointed out, leading them through the crypt and hoping none of them stopped to notice some of the dates on the plinths were hundreds of years apart.

Alucard glanced at the paintings decorating the vaulted ceiling; most of them were of religious figures, but some had been painted over more recently, though in a very similar style to the originals. “Do you know who did those?” he asked, gesturing.

Lucian glanced up and nodded. “Mateo did, actually,” she said. “Leon said he used to be a painter before he got recruited.”

“...I see,” Alucard said, casting an appraising eye over the paintings. Many of the figures looked like they were meant to represent the people depicted by the busts, battling night creatures, vampires, and numerous other monsters lifted straight from the Belmont bestiary. “He managed to capture the style of the era well.”

Lucian blanched and hastily turned away, taking them to the back of the crypts where a pair of bronze doors stood, engraved with… well, whatever the original engravings were, it was hard to say. The door’s faces had been gouged by claws, erasing whatever had once been upon them.

“This looks… welcoming,” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s fine,” Lucian said, pushing open the doors.

It was the room from her dream—bookshelves and glass cases around the room, a large wooden table that dominated the centre, and a desk crammed in the corner. Lucian let her fingers trail over the spot on the table that she’d accidentally burned, while Trevor stopped in front of one of the cases.

He stared down at the scrap of cloth embroidered with the Belmont crest, back in its proper place, dried lilies placed carefully on either side of it. 

“He really loved his kid, huh,” he said quietly, letting his hand rest against the glass.

“As most parents do their children,” Alucard said. His expression was stony, and he turned away to the smaller wooden door set in the wall near the desk.

Lucian knocked, and Leon’s voice came from within. “Come in.”

The bedroom, repurposed from what was likely meant to be a private tomb, was small, but draped with warm, rich red hangings, most of the furniture shoved off to one side. Leon swung his feet off the bed, putting his book aside as he studied the newcomers.

“Here to see the portal?” he asked, and Lucian nodded, turning to stare at the cracks in reality—colour spiralling out from the gap in space and time, tendrils stretching as far as they would go before fading into nothingness at the edge of their reach. Here, the crackle of energy was intense, washing over her like pulsing waves, leaving the hairs on her arms standing up.

Sypha stretched out a hand in the direction of the portal before slowly drawing her hand back. “It’s here,” she said slowly, “but… where?”

“Invisible, presumably,” Alucard said, leaning up against the doorway.

“You guys can’t see it?” Lucian asked desperately, turning away from the portal.

Trevor gestured in the direction of the portal over her shoulder. “See _what?_ It’s just a blank wall.”

“Lucian,” Leon said as he stood up, folding his hands behind his back, “Touch one of them. Focus, _really_ focus on what you can see, and on sharing that with someone else.”

Lucian glanced at Sypha, who shook her head and took a tentative half-step back.

“Sypha?” she asked quietly.

Sypha took a deep breath, hands clenching in the folds of her robes. “Not… no,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t think I can. Not yet.”

Lucian turned to Trevor and Alucard, her gaze flickering between the two before Alucard put an arm out in front of Trevor, stepping forward and holding out his hand.

Sypha pressed against Trevor as Lucian took the proffered hand, not quite closing her eyes as she turned to stare down the portal.

Alucard’s hand clenched around hers, and when he quickly let go, Lucian looked to him anxiously. He remained staring at the portal in the corner of the room, the swirl of colours reflected in his eyes.

“Alucard?” Lucian said carefully, and he squeezed his eyes shut briefly. When they opened again, the reflection was gone.

“You can see that?” he asked, his voice low. “All the time?”

“I mean, only down here,” Lucian said, and he snorted, breaking the tension. 

“Does the forgemaster know about its existence?” Sypha asked Leon.

He shook his head. “I haven’t had the chance to tell him yet,” he said.

“You _can’t_ ,” Sypha said, biting her lip. “Leon—Trevor and I encountered another portal in Lindenfeld. There was a night creature there that warped the minds of the monks living in the priory above the portal, and they killed almost everybody in the town trying to revive Dracula.”

Leon was quiet for a long minute before sighing heavily, turning away to move the book he’d been reading onto the bedside table. 

“Leon?” Lucian said tentatively.

“It’s nothing,” he said at last. “Although Hector betrayed Dracula—”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Trevor interrupted.

“—and I don’t think he would use this portal for similar purposes, it seems prudent for now that this matter stay between us.”

“Do the other knights know?” Alucard asked, and Leon nodded. 

Trevor impatiently cleared his throat. “Can we go back to the betraying Dracula part?” 

“He thought Carmilla’s plans for the future were… more in line with his own goals.”

“You mean putting humans in pens and using us as food for vampires,” Lucian said flatly, folding her arms.

Leon looked pained at her words. “Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not defending what he did. I think he’s… lost. Confused. And dare I say, not the same man who once aligned himself to Dracula’s cause.”

Sypha shook her head. “You’re risking countless lives putting your trust in him.”

“I know.” Leon looked at each of them in turn. “But people change—for the better or for worse depends on who surrounds them in their lives.”

Trevor shook his head and turned away. “Four hundred years has made you insane.”

“I like to think it’s given me clarity,” Leon said, unconcerned. “Or at the very least, a willingness to keep an open mind.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Trevor said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He turned on his heel and pulled the door open. “Let’s go.”

They trailed out after him, Lucian pausing in the doorway to glance over her shoulder at Leon.

“Go,” he said. When Lucian hesitated, he waited until the others left after Trevor before closing the distance, putting his hands on her shoulders. Lucian stiffened, and Leon immediately drew back. “I know your history with Hector is… complicated,” he said after a moment. “I won’t try to change your mind about him.” His eyes searched her face for a moment. “You should go with your—”

“Friends?” Lucian said dryly, and Leon chuckled.

“ _Friends_ , yes. Though…” He paused, fangs pricking his lower lip as he thought. “If you could possibly nudge Trevor to talk with me? I would appreciate it immensely.”

Lucian nodded and drew away. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, and hurried after the others.

* * *

It wasn’t Trevor she managed to get alone. 

Alucard fell back to walk with her, Trevor with his arm around Sypha and leading the way back to their shared room. 

“You seem troubled,” he said, and Lucian glanced up at him—partially surprised he noticed, mostly glad he did at all. 

“A bit,” she said, ducking her head. _Fft-fft-fft._ _Fft-fft. Fft-fft-fft-fft-fft—_

“Lucian?”

She shoved a knuckle into her mouth, biting down until the urge to spit air through her teeth subsided. 

“Lucian?” Sypha asked, and she looked up to see she and Trevor were watching her worriedly. 

“I’m fine,” she said, waving them off. “Give us some space?” She hesitated. “Please?”

Trevor and Sypha glanced at each other, before Trevor nodded, and the two of them continued on their way.

“Shall we go to the cloister?” Alucard offered, and Lucian let her chin drop to her chest.

“ _Please?_ ”

Lucian let him lead her there, though she tugged his arm to correct his course a few times when he got turned around in the mazelike corridors of the cathedral. Alucard drew her out into the cool night air, leading her through the overgrown hedgerows to the fountain that stood proudly in the centre of the cloister’s garden.

“Did something happen while we were sleeping?” he asked, and his eyes widened when Lucian let out a strangled sob, all but throwing herself at his chest, clinging to him.

Alucard carefully tugged at her to sit on the edge of the fountain, running a hand over Lucian’s back before cupping it under her chin. “Lucian, please—don’t keep more secrets from me.”

“I don’t want to,” Lucian whispered, her fingers digging into his coat. “I’m just—I’m _scared,_ Alucard…”

His free hand settled at her hip, a strange sort of comfort from the warmth of his weight. “Why?”

She drew back, frowning as she examined him. “...Why?”

“Why are you scared?” Alucard’s gaze was intense, his golden eyes searching her face.

Lucian let out a shuddering breath and glanced away. “It’s… how it will change things between us,” she said at long last. “All of us. Forever.”

Alucard tipped his head, but didn’t speak. 

“I talked with Leon, earlier,” Lucian finally said, drawing away from Alucard, knotting her fingers in the hem of her shirt. “The stuff he was hiding before—he said it was up to me to tell you, if I wanted to.”

“...Lucian?”

She glanced up when Alucard put a careful hand on her shoulder. Lucian bit her lip, studying his face that she already knew so well, every sharp angle, every contour. 

“Leon told me about the Brotherhood,” she said. “Or at least about its members. Roisin—she’s the one from his story, before, the one he met and founded the Brotherhood with.”

Alucard hissed in a sharp breath. “But that would make her—”

“Nearly three hundred years old,” Lucian said, bowing her head. “I— _Alucard_ —I don’t know how to tell the others, I thought maybe you’d understand since you’re a dhampir and all, but—”

He tugged her closer, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. Lucian deepened it, her hands clinging, desperate, and Alucard had to push her away before she sat back, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I’m so scared,” Lucian whispered, her shoulders shaking.

“I’m sure you are.” Alucard squeezed her hands, and Lucian returned the gesture, not sure where to look as she sniffled. “Can you start from the beginning? For me?”

A moment’s hesitation, and then the words were tumbling from her mouth, and Alucard listened intently, his heart breaking as Lucian poured her own out for him to hear.


	62. Chapter 62

When Lucian and Alucard returned to the room, Sypha was halfway on top of Trevor, her outer robes discarded on the floor along with his shirt.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” Alucard said, pausing in the doorway with his arm around Lucian’s waist.

Sypha rolled off of Trevor, looking at the both of them while Lucian tried very hard not to stare at her bare chest. “Come inside and shut the door?”

They did so, Alucard bumping the door shut with his hip as Sypha stood up, crossing the room to draw Lucian away and push her down to the bed, kneeling between her legs. Sypha’s fingers fumbled with Lucian’s sash before she worked it free, starting to undo the dark green jerkin’s fastenings while Lucian stuttered in her attempts to talk.  
  


“Sypha?” she finally managed as the Speaker threw the jerkin aside. “Are you sure about this?”

Sypha’s fingers paused at the hem of Lucian’s shirt. “Right now, I just need something to think about that isn’t going to end in blood,” she said, her hands settling at Lucian’s hips. “But if you don’t—?”

“I—” Lucian paused, swallowing as she looked down at Sypha, crouched between her legs on the floor. “I do want this,” she said, her mouth dry. She glanced up at Alucard, who remained by the door, watching them with interest. 

He began to move around the beds that had been pushed together, sitting on the far edge but not breaking his gaze. “By all means—continue.”

Trevor wrapped his arms around Lucian’s waist, drawing her shirt up over her head as she lifted her arms. “Sypha’s been looking forward to this for a while,” he murmured, and Lucian squirmed under his and Sypha’s hands. “Not gonna lie—I’ve been waiting, too.”

“Careful,” Alucard said, propping himself against the footboard as he watched. “Just don’t snap her in half, will you?”

“Not unless I ask,” Lucian said, inhaling sharply when Sypha hooked her fingers into Lucian’s waistband and pulled her breeches down. Sypha pressed a kiss to Lucian’s inner thigh, her face moving higher up, tongue tracing a path not even Alucard had left before.

Her ragged boots were slid off her feet and tossed into a corner, the breeches tugged the rest of the way down before Lucian was sat completely naked on the edge of the bed, Sypha topless before her, Trevor’s bare chest supporting her from behind.

“Alucard?” Sypha asked, glancing up at him before he shook his head. 

“Not… not just yet,” he said at long last. His sword lay ready under the beds, and though he didn’t think he would need to use it… “I’d rather see what the three of you do, I think.”

Lucian shivered against Trevor’s chest, but Sypha chuckled, shooting Alucard a grin. “If you ever change your mind, _do_ join in,” she said, and dipped her face between Lucian’s legs. 

Lucian gasped, her heels digging into Sypha’s shoulders as the Speaker’s tongue traced along her folds, teasing as she tasted Lucian. 

“Not your first time?” Lucian said breathlessly, and her knees tightened on either side of Sypha’s head, Trevor having to hold her upright when Sypha’s tongue slid over her clit, nearly undoing her.

“Definitely not the first,” Sypha said when she lifted her head to grin at Lucian, her mouth shining from the slick that coated it. “Though you’re _incredibly_ fun to tease.”

Alucard shifted his postition, watching over Trevor’s shoulder as Sypha slowly worked Lucian into further depths of pleasure with her tongue. Lucian’s breath stuttered, her head falling back against Trevor’s chest while Sypha carried on, Trevor running his hands up and down Lucian’s body, his fingers trailing over her ribs, her hips, before digging into her thighs to keep her in place.

Sypha pulled away from Lucian, smiling mischievously when Trevor met her gaze. “Maybe Lucian and I could swap places,” she said, “though you know I’d never say no to your head between my legs…”

Trevor groaned softly, his hands clenching on Lucian’s hips. 

“Which leaves me kneeling before you?” Lucian asked, and Sypha nodded. “Alright—let’s do it.”

It was a brief moment of rearrangement, and then Lucian was kneeling before the bed, her head between Sypha’s legs as Trevor’s hands squeezed Sypha’s breasts, fingers playing with her nipples. Lucian nibbled against the inside of Sypha’s thigh, breath shuddering when Alucard slipped off the bed to wrap his arms around her waist while she continued her ministrations. 

“You’re—” Lucian paused to slide her tongue along Sypha’s inner thighs, fingers clenching on Sypha’s hips, her breathing coming in staggered gasps as she tried to regain control. “You’re _amazing_ , Syph, holy _fuck_ —”

Sypha groaned, leaning against Trevor and savouring his warmth before his inquisitive fingers found exactly _how_ wet she was. He dipped into the folds between her legs before moving back up to touch her nipples, rubbing and gently twisting until she peaked under his touch—leaving her wondering how she was to clean herself before Lucian lifted her head to suck gently, her tongue working at Sypha’s chest and licking away every last drop of stickiness, fingers teasing between Sypha’s legs.

Lucian’s movements were uncertain, unpracticed, but she knew well enough what to do from her own self pleasure, and her hands explored Sypha as she worked her undone.

She slipped her fingers into Sypha, thumb circling her clit. Sypha’s head fell back, and Lucian kissed her way down Sypha’s chest, paying special attention to the sensitive undersides of Sypha’s breasts with her tongue.

“That’s—okay, that’s it,” Sypha said breathlessly, and turned to push Trevor down onto the mattress, working his trousers off as she straddled him. “Enough—Lucian, get up here—”

And Lucian found herself being pulled onto the bed, casting a nervous glance at Alucard before Sypha was tugging Trevor’s breeches lower, baring him to the rest of them. Sypha discarded her own clothing before rutting against Trevor, pulling Lucian astride his face, and Trevor was left moaning quietly into the fork of Lucian’s legs. 

“Just like that,” Sypha said, her fingers digging into Trevor’s hips as she lifted herself onto his dick. “Just. Like. That. You’re a very attentive lover, aren’t you?” she added, and as her fingers dug into Trevor’s hips, his head fell back, a moan torn from between his lips at the motion.

“Try desperate,” he gasped, and reached behind him to grab Lucian’s hips. “ _God_ —”

Sypha slid down on Trevor as he pressed his face against Lucian’s groin, his hands clenching around her hips, almost clawing. Lucian braced herself against his chest, Sypha catching her in a kiss.

Alucard let his fingers trail over Sypha’s spine as she rode Trevor, his breath hitching as he watched them move together. He palmed himself through his trousers, biting back a sigh at the thought of Lucian or Sypha riding him in the same way—or Trevor taking him from behind—

_God_ , they really were going to be the death of him.

Lucian inhaled sharply and ducked her head, biting her lip, her knees tightening on either side of Trevor’s face before she slid off of him. Her fingers ran up and down Trevor’s hips, breath shuttering as Sypha continued to ride him.

Alucard wrapped his arms around Lucian, his own fingers hovering just over the heat between her legs, until Lucian pressed up against him, grinding against his fingers, chasing her climax. He kissed the nape of her neck, following the curve and humming quietly when Lucian gasped at his ministrations. 

“You sure you’re— _hah_ —fine with this?” Lucian asked breathlessly, and Alucard let go briefly to shed his coat before wrapping his arms around her again.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he said, and nipped at her neck, feeling her stiffen in his embrace.

Sypha glanced up at him, her face flushed from exertion. “Still staying out of this?”

Alucard hummed softly, his arms tightening around Lucian’s waist. “I’m… reconsidering.”

“Can’t stand seeing me have all the fun,” Trevor said, only for Sypha to cover his mouth as she leaned in, a smirk playing around her lips.

“He’ll get his turn once I’m through with you,” Sypha said, and shot a grin over her shoulder at Alucard.

His eyes raked over her shoulders, her back, to her thighs clenched around Trevor’s hips, and he swallowed. 

Lucian twisted in his grasp, sliding her hands under Alucard’s shirt to settle at his waist. “Can I?” she said, and he hesitated, gripping her shoulders, feeling the ridges of scars under his fingers. 

She’d seen them before—that part, he wasn’t worried about—but Trevor and Sypha…

...hadn’t said anything about Lucian’s scars. 

He would be fine. He just needed to trust in them that they wouldn't take advantage of his vulnerability.

Easier said than done—but then, wasn't that true of everything?

Alucard let her pull his shirt off, freezing when he felt a second set of hands on his back.

“Alucard?” Sypha said carefully, and he turned to look at her, flushed and sweaty, her eyes searching his face.

“It’s fine,” he said immediately, and began to undo the buckles of his belts. 

“You don’t have to feel like you need to go through with this or whatever,” Trevor said, tugging Lucian to him. “I won’t give you shit if that’s—”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Alucard said again, and moved to cover Sypha.

This, he could handle; he wasn’t helpless, pinned on his back. This time, he was the one in control. 

_He was in control_ , and he loved knowing it.

His hands braced on either side of her head, fangs pricking his lower lip when Sypha lifted her hips to rut against him. 

“Damn,” Trevor said, eyebrows going up. “I’m going to need some time to recover, but…” He grinned, slipping a hand between Sypha and Alucard to play with her nipples. 

“Never thought you’d find the experience of being cuckolded by a dhampir so arousing,” Alucard said, gasping when Sypha hooked her ankles behind him, locking her legs around his waist.

Lucian slid her hands over Alucard’s back, and he shuddered, his forehead falling to rest against Sypha’s shoulder. 

“ _Alucard_ ,” Sypha said, her voice breathless, “take me?”

He lifted his head, aware of Lucian’s hands on his back, Trevor’s hands between his and Sypha’s chests, another hand on his ass, all of them moving together and flush with _desire_ , and Alucard hissed through his teeth, his entire body clenching under their hands.

“You okay?” Trevor asked, and Alucard dipped his head, nuzzling between Sypha’s breasts, his nose tracing gentle patterns between the peaks. 

“Absolutely,” he said, and it was with some effort between him and Sypha before he was lined up to her entrance, her hand encircling him, hard and ready to thrust between her legs. Sypha’s fingers bit into his shoulders, her whisper of “Go ahead” leaving him undone before he slid into her, a sharp gasp torn from his mouth before the both of them began to move.

“Christ,” Trevor said, his fingers digging into the both of them. “Fucking hell—how’m I supposed to—?”

And Lucian was behind Alucard, curling over his back as he pounded into Sypha, her own hands reaching around him to trail in tantalising paths, leaving Sypha squirming beneath them. Alucard’s breath hitched when he realised the extent Lucian held over him, but her hands clenched around his abdomen, and he stiffened beneath her as she continued her ministrations. 

Trevor pressed kisses to Sypha’s arms, his own hands rough and searching as they ran over Alucard’s hips and thighs. “Next time, I’m going to take you first,” he whispered, dragging his teeth over Alucard’s ear. 

Sypha pulled Alucard’s face down to hers, grinning against his mouth. “Not if I get there first.”

Alucard responded with a desperate kiss, trying to distract her. “You really are shameless, you know that?” he murmured, pausing when her nails raked down his arms. “ _Sypha_ —”

“Hurry up and fuck me senseless,” she said, and pulled him into another kiss. 

And Alucard complied, letting Trevor and Lucian do as they pleased with their hands while he continued to thrust into Sypha, his breath hitching as she gasped beneath him. 

He came with a shuddering cry, Lucian kissing the back of his neck and Trevor’s fingers digging into Sypha’s thigh, the Speaker trembling, legs tight around his waist.

Sypha sighed as Alucard carefully slid out of her, stretching languidly and looking _very_ content. “As far as distractions go... that was incredibly enjoyable.”

Lucian laughed quietly and tugged Sypha against her, trailing small kisses over Sypha’s shoulders as she did so. “You deserved it.”

“I might need more distracting later,” Sypha said, turning her pleading gaze on the rest of them. “I _do_ hope you’ll indulge me, or else I don’t think I can cope.”

Trevor caught her in a kiss, silencing her. His hands roamed over her body, teasingly attentive as he swung a leg over Sypha’s hips. “Like you’ll ever escape that.”

Sypha grinned up at him, tugging her fingers through Trevor’s hair. “Like I’d want to.”

Alucard pulled Lucian into his arms, letting the lean contours of her body press against his. He glanced over at Sypha and Trevor, his fangs pricking his lower lip. “I just— _we_ just want to be sure you’re certain of that,” he said after far too long.

“ _Alucard_ ,” Sypha said, leaning around Trevor to pull him into a kiss. “I’m sure. _I’m sure._ You don’t need to treat me like I’m delicate; I promise, I’m certain if I say so.”

He smiled down at her—uncertain, but _certain_. He knew she knew what she wanted, and didn’t dare fight the statement; Sypha absolutely knew her own mind, and it would be insanity to challenge that. 

Lucian twisted in Alucard’s arms to kiss him. “I think we’re all sure,” she murmured, and his hands tightened on her waist at her words. “I just want to make sure you are, too.”

His hands settled at her waist as he turned to look at Sypha and Trevor. “I... am,” he said, and smiled—though he rolled his eyes at the idea. “God, don’t let it go to your head, will you?”

Trevor snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “Dick.”

“Arsehole.”

“Like you wouldn’t let me fuck you given the first chance.”

“Beside the point,” Alucard drawled, ignoring the sharp sting of Lucian’s hand on his backside. He grinned against her neck, hiding his smile as Trevor growled at him. “Honestly, a Belmont so eager to fuck a dhampir—”

“ _Boys_ ,” Sypha said, her voice sharp. “Save it for next time.”

Lucian turned her head to grin at her, only to find Sypha’s face barely an inch from hers. “Love that you’re so sure there’ll be a next time.”

Sypha leaned in to brush her lips against Lucian’s, and smiled. “I know there will be.”


	63. Chapter 63

Hector mostly kept to his room despite his newfound freedom. Despite Hette’s insistence he was welcome to go where he liked, it felt like the others were watching him—waiting for an excuse to kill him. 

A few more days, and then he’d start making his way back to Rhodes. Maybe ask Hette to take him there, skip the journey entirely, but then she would know where he lived and likely tell the others. Not that they couldn't find out with their mirror, but it would still feel like he would be inviting them to be intrusive if he showed her personally.

“No easy decisions, are there, Cezar?” he asked the pug, who was lying at the foot of his bed, gnawing on a pig bone from the kitchen. 

The pug’s head shot up, and for a moment Hector thought it was in response to his voice before Cezar barked and leapt off the bed, going to the door and scrabbling against it. 

Hector could only think of one reason why Cezar would suddenly be so insistent on going outside, and his stomach sank as he watched Cezar’s whining increase.

“...Very well,” he said, and got up off the bed, opening the door with no small reluctance. Cezar bolted off, and Hector groaned before chasing after the dog, following him out to the cloister garden to find Lucian sitting beside the fountain on the ground, Cezar in her lap and barking excitedly, tail wagging furiously.

“Hi, Kerb—Cezar! Who’s such a good doggie, you are, yes you a...re.” She trailed off as she looked up, directly at Hector. 

She bit her lip, doing that strange thing with her mouth where she seemed to hiss air through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft._

“He wanted to see you,” Hector said at long last. 

“I, um.” Lucian cleared her throat. “I guessed.” 

An awkward silence passed between them, broken only by Cezar’s insistent whining when Lucian’s hands stilled. She scooped him up and sat on the edge of the fountain, indicating the spot beside her with a tilt of her head. “Come sit down?”

Hector approached, and sat. Cezar wriggled in her arms until she passed him back over to him, and Hector gave the pug gentle scritches under his chin.

“What did you call him before?” 

“Kerberos,” Lucian said. “I figured, since he’s, you know, undead—”

“Reanimated,” Hector said. Insistent terminology, but it was important they understood. “It’s a good name, though. Very fitting.”

“You know the stories?”

He gave her a small smile. “I was born and raised in Greece,” he said. The smile twisted slightly, remembering the past. “I’d like to go back there, soon.”

“And do… what, exactly?” Lucian asked, and he heard the note of wariness in her voice.

“Get my hammer remade,” he said, looking out over the cloister. “Go back to raising animals. Vampires or humans, I couldn’t care less. I just want to go home.”

“I’m sure one of the others could take you,” Lucian said. “I mean—Styria to France was nothing for them, Greece wouldn’t be that much farther a trip.”

Hector glanced at her, deciding she didn’t need to hear his thoughts on that matter. “Why do you care?”

“...Sorry?”

“You made no secret your reasons to hate me,” Hector said, and a flash of anger crossed her face. “And yet, you keep doing…” He gestured at her. “This.”

Lucian sighed, leaning over to pet Cezar. “I don’t think you’re the same man who worked with Dracula anymore,” she said at last.

Hector let out a soft huff of laughter. “What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for starters—the fact you’re even asking,” Lucian said. She rubbed the spot under Cezar’s jaw that made the pug flop over in Hector’s arms. “And Leon trusts you, and I trust Leon.” She looked up at Hector, shaking her head. “That doesn’t forgive what you did. Honestly it would take a ton of shit for you to make up for it, if you even could.”

“You’re assuming I care.”

Lucian studied him for a moment, before shaking her head again and standing up. “Because if you did care, you’d have to face what you did." She paused and turned to leave. "I’ll see you around.”

* * *

“Trevor!” Lucian yelled, stalking through the corridors of the cathedral and hoping he was still in the kitchen where she’d last seen him. Her thumbs were shoved in her waist sash, and she was shaking from a sudden bout of anxiety. “Trevor! Where are you?”

She heard pounding footsteps before Trevor came sprinting into view, slowing to a brisk walk when he caught sight of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing? Nothing immediate, it’s—” Lucian sighed, dragging her hands through her hair. “Look, I need to work off some steam, we haven’t sparred in a while, and there’s a training ground out back. Please?”

Trevor frowned at her, noting she was trembling, but nodded. “Yeah, alright,” he said. “Leon came in, said there was a library around here somewhere, so Sypha and the oversized mosquito decided to check it out.”

“I saw it,” Lucian said, her eyes lighting up. “You Belmonts really love collecting books and artefacts, don’t you?”

Trevor shot her a grin. “Don’t say that around Alucard; he’ll probably start going on about us being hoarders again.”

“Hey, he promised not to, remember? Although…” Lucian gave Trevor a look. “You want to know something crazy?”

“Good crazy or bad?”

“...Neither? Both? Whatever it is Maud did…” Lucian made a face. “ _Facta autem hac voce, convenit multitudo, et mente confusa est, quoniam audiebat unusquisque lingua sua illos loquentes._ ”

And though she was speaking in Latin, Trevor somehow managed to understand every word. “‘—every man heard them speak in his own tongue.’ Fuck—speaking in tongues?”

“Unless you have another explanation for it.”

Trevor sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Every time I think shit can’t get any weirder with you lot.” Lucian blanched; this did not escape him. “What.”

“I… there’s something Leon told me,” Lucian said at long last. “I just don’t know how to say—I mean, I told Alucard, or kind of blurted it all out for him, but it’s—different, I—” She took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you and Sypha, promise. I just can’t figure out the words.”

“Why’d he tell you and not the rest of us?”

Lucian sighed, blowing her fringe out of her eyes. “Said it was for me to tell you, not him.”

“This isn’t exactly making me any less worried, Luce.”

“It’s nothing… to worry about, exactly,” Lucian said, though her smile looked more forced rather than reassuring. “Just a bit of an emotional process to go through first.”

“Is it something to do with being a—?”

“ _Please_ ,” Lucian said, sounding pained. “I swear I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Trevor _harumph_ ed as they pushed open the doors that led out to the training ground. It was a large clearing of dirt in the woods behind the cathedral, with padded training dummies on the right and a target range set up along the back end, all of which looked to be in brand-new shape. Lucian wondered if the knights mended their targets after use.

“Try not to make this a repeat of the coins,” Trevor said, and Lucian’s face went a blotchy red, which she quickly tried to hide by turning on her heel and taking several steps away farther into the clearing.

“I _won’t_.” She pulled the spear from her sash and expanded it to full length, settling into a ready stance.

Trevor unfurled the Morning Star, and at Lucian’s nod, he attacked. She ducked under the head and tangled the spear’s shaft in the chain, stepping on it and collapsing the spear to slide it free before sprinting at him. Trevor saw her coming and drew his sword; Lucian parried the blow, lifting into the air to leap over his head. 

He re-coiled the chain and struck again, and Lucian went higher, expanding her spear once more.

“You’re getting better!” Trevor called up to her, wrapping the chain around his hand and redirecting the path of the arc. Lucian blocked the head with the shaft of her spear, and the resulting _clang_ echoed off the stone walls. “My reach is longer than yours; try to get inside mine without getting too close to the sword—”

Lucian killed her momentum, dropping like a stone onto Trevor’s head. He yelled more in surprise than anything as they fell to the ground, and she pulled the shaft of her spear against his neck. “Or I could do that,” she said.

“You could,” Trevor agreed, and stood, flipping her over his head to land winded in the dirt. “But you forget you’re not as strong as I am—and definitely not as strong as a vampire. Your weapon gives you leverage.”

“Got it,” Lucian wheezed.

He frowned. “You okay?” he said, going to offer her a hand up. She took it—and kicked at his ankles, leaving him to fall on top of her.

“Cheater,” he said. 

She grinned and kissed his nose. “I thought anything goes when fighting vampires?”

“It does,” came a voice behind them. Trevor pushed himself off Lucian to see Roisin standing in the entrance to the practice yard, her wicked-looking axe in hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Here to practice?” Lucian asked, sitting up and nodding at the axe.

Roisin nodded. “You like?” she asked, grinning. “It’s a sparr axe. Had it since before Sieur Trantoul recruited me.”

“Can I?” Trevor asked, and caught the axe by the shaft when Roisin tossed it horizontally at him. He nodded approvingly as he looked it over. “It’s some impressive work.”

Lucian reached out towards the shaft, feeling the telltale buzz of holy energy she was starting to recognise as _Roisin_. “Consecrated?” she asked, looking up at Roisin, who nodded, taking her weapon back.

“In a sense,” she said. “We have our means, anyway.” She tilted her head, grinning at Lucian. “Seems like Trevor’s been working with you, but… may I?”

Lucian glanced at Trevor, who shrugged. “What the hell, should be fun to watch.”

“I don’t really have a lot of practice against pole weapons,” Lucian added as she and Roisin moved into position.

“I’ll go easy on you, then,” Roisin said, with an absolutely wicked smile.

Lucian gulped. 

Roisin shot forward, axe whirling in her hands as she ducked Lucian’s strike to whack her in the ribs with the flat of the head. 

Lucian stumbled and gasped, and before she knew it, Roisin had stepped inside her reach, hooking the axe around her ankle to send her tumbling to the ground. 

“You call that easy?” Lucian said, staring up at the tip pointed against her chest.

Roisin offered her a hand to help her up. “I’ll do it again slower so you can see.”

* * *

Trevor ended up sitting against the wall of the cathedral, arms crossed as he watched Roisin drill Lucian until their shadows were thrown across the ground by the setting sun. It was obvious to him that the knight had years of experience and was a master of her weapon, and he felt his thoughts wandering to _whatever_ the Hell it was Lucian wanted to tell him and Sypha, and had already told Alucard… 

And speak of the devil.

“We thought we’d find you out here,” Alucard said, kicking Trevor lightly in the thigh.

“Lucian dragged me out to practice, and now she’s getting her arse kicked,” Trevor said, chuckling. 

“I am not!” Lucian called, and was promptly sent facedown in the dirt again.

“Don’t let your focus waver for a moment,” Roisin chided, helping Lucian to her feet again. 

Sypha smiled and shook her head at the sight of the priest covered in dust before sitting next to Trevor. She leaned in, speaking quietly so as not to distract Lucian. “While we were in the library, we noticed something—”

“The languages thing?” Trevor asked, and Sypha nodded. “Yeah, Lucian quoted the fucking Bible at me and I understood it. Shit’s just getting weirder every day here.”

“My, Belmont,” Alucard said, smirking down at him. The dhampir remained standing, leaning back against the wall. “Don’t tell me this means you’re _literate_ now.”

“I had a fucking education, just not as extensive as either of yours,” Trevor said, backhand swatting Alucard’s knee. “What kept you so long, anyway? Snogging behind the shelves, were you?”

Alucard coughed, suddenly rather pink in the face.

“Maybe,” Sypha said, grinning. The smile slid off her face when she added, “But we also found some… interesting books on relics.”

“Lucian said Leon had told her some things she wanted to share with us,” Trevor said, glancing up at Alucard. “Well.” He snorted. “Me and Sypha, anyway.”

“Alucard?” Sypha said, looking at him as well.

He fixed his gaze on Lucian, watching as Roisin walked her through the steps. “She wished to tell you in her own time,” he said at last.

“Yeah, well, sounds like Sypha’s already figured it out, so why am I always the last to know—?”

“She’s immortal,” Sypha said. “They all are.”

Trevor was silent for a long moment. “ _Shit_.”

“Alucard and I returned to the crypts,” Sypha said. “Some of the dates on the plinths were centuries apart.”

“No wonder she went to you, first,” Trevor said, nudging Alucard’s leg with his elbow. “Together the two of you can fuck for—”

“Finish that thought, Belmont. I dare you.”

“C’mere. Sit.” Trevor tugged on the hem of his coat until he reluctantly did so, and Trevor draped an arm across his shoulders. “Hey, bright side, she’ll keep you company after Sypha and I finally get offed,” he said, ignoring the scolding pinch Sypha gave his shoulder. 

“And now she’ll know the pain of eternity without you,” Alucard said quietly. “I thought I would be the only one. It would have been unpleasant, but a far happier alternative.”

“You’re in a cheerful mood, today.”

“Trevor, leave him alone,” Sypha said. “You’re just as unhappy as the rest of us.”

Trevor sighed, twining his fingers through hers. “Still letting it sink in,” he said at last.

Lucian’s laughter rang out over the training grounds when she managed to successfully trip Roisin. It was clear the knight had been moving in slow motion to help Lucian see what to do, but it was still progress.

The door creaked open next to them, though Leon remained inside, just beyond the reach of the sun’s last rays. “I see Roisin has already got to her,” he said, the smile evident in his voice.

“What do you want?” Trevor said, bristling somewhat. To say he resented the position Leon had put Lucian in would be an understatement.

Leon hummed quietly, and Trevor could picture his mouth pressed into a line. “Actually, I was rather hoping to spar with _you_ ,” he said. “I’m sure we have some time before supper is ready.”

Trevor let go of Sypha and Alucard, standing up at once and cracking his knuckles. “This ought to be fun.” What better way to work out his frustrations than this?

Roisin called for a halt, and Lucian, covered in dirt and sweat, held out a hand. Roisin gripped her wrist. “Still room for improvement.”

“I haven’t been doing this as long as you,” Lucian said, raising her eyebrows.

“Just give it a few centuries,” Roisin whispered, and winked. 

When the sun slipped below the horizon, Leon stepped out into the open air, pulling a long pair of leather gloves from his belt and tugging them on. Trevor eyed the braided whip coiled at Leon’s side. 

Leon noticed him looking and grinned, fangs gleaming. “If you could use the Morning Star, I’d appreciate not going up in flames today,” he said, uncoiling the whip. 

They waited until Roisin and Lucian were out of the way, and then began, their movements more akin to a dance. The thunderous cracks of both weapons resonated in his chest, and Trevor recognised Leon’s fighting style as his _own._

Leon began to laugh, and despite himself, Trevor did the same, knowing Leon had realised the same thing he did. He twisted, the Morning Star pivoting on his elbow to strike at Leon’s feet. 

The vampire turned to mist, curling across the ground to rush past him like a low-moving cloud. Trevor waited, turning on the spot and taking aim the moment Leon reformed. The Morning Star fell in binding loops around Leon, and at the same time the leather whip wrapped around Trevor’s arm.

“What do you plan on doing now, old man?” Trevor taunted, and Leon gave a sharp tug of his wrist, leaving Trevor stumbling forward before the tension slackened. He drew his sword and rushed forward to meet Leon’s blade in a clang of steel.

“This, apparently,” Leon said, pressing back against his sword. He glanced at Trevor’s weapon and grinned. “Glad to see my old sword is in good hands.”

Trevor disengaged and slashed in a wide arc, forcing Leon to leap back before closing the distance again. Leon’s sword screeched as he ran it down the blade, locking their hilts together.

It was at this point Trevor tried kneeing Leon in the groin, which had the dual result of Leon raising a slow eyebrow at him and Alucard’s call of “ _Again_ , Belmont?”

Leon, unused to the taunts, glanced up, and Trevor managed to get his sword free, the edge of the blade pressed to Leon’s throat.

“Well fought,” Leon said approvingly, and Trevor lowered the sword. “Though I think I might have won if not for the distraction.”

“Oi, don’t be setting a bad example for Lucian here,” Roisin called. 

“Of course,” Leon said, stooping to pick up the whips, re-coiling the Morning Star with a gentle motion before handing it back to Trevor. “My apologies, Roisin.”

Trevor limped back to the group, silently cursing the fact that apparently vampire dick was made of stone, and Sypha caught him in a hug.

“That was a very enjoyable sparring match,” she said. 

Lucian touched his arm, and he felt that familiar glow rush through his body, healing his bruised knee. “You were both so fast, I almost couldn’t follow what was happening.”

“I haven’t enjoyed myself that much in years,” Leon said, stripping off his gloves. Trevor noticed that his talons were trimmed down to fingernails once more. 

“You saying the rest of us aren’t enough of a challenge for you?” Roisin said, mock-teasing. 

“Far be it my place to say,” Leon said, grinning back at her. “But let us retire inside; I’m sure after the day’s work you’re all hungry.”

“Starving,” Lucian said, starting inside. Trevor caught her shoulder, and she jumped at his touch. 

“We need to talk after dinner,” he said quietly.

“All of us together,” Sypha agreed.

Lucian bit her lip, glancing at Alucard. His gaze in return told her all she needed to know.

“...Okay,” she whispered, tugging her arm out from under Trevor’s hand. She fell behind them as they followed Leon and Roisin, and when Trevor glanced back, she looked very small and alone.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles*

Lucian led them up to the bell tower after dinner. A rumble of thunder was in the air, lightning flashing among the clouds rolling in to cover the stars.

She sat at the edge of the same window she’d been sitting by the same night Leon told her, letting her legs dangle, one foot jittering with nerves. 

“So,” Sypha said, sitting next to her. Trevor leaned against the support column opposite, while Alucard perched among the beams that held up the bell. 

“How did you guys find out?”

“In the library,” Sypha said. “Leon keeps records. And an extensive collection of research on relics.”

Lucian sighed, her head falling back against the column. “Of course he does,” she said quietly. _Fft-fft-fft._ “I didn’t go deep enough in while I was exploring to find them.”

“So what does this mean for you?” Trevor said, and gestured around at the rest of the group. “For us?”

“Apparently, it… means I can’t die,” Lucian said. “When we thought I died before, it was more like… stasis, apparently. I don’t have this magic inside me, it’s more like I’m a…”

“A conductor,” Alucard supplied, and she nodded. 

“The healing was too much for my body to take, and I burnt out.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Trevor said. He stared at Lucian for a long moment; Sypha reached out for her hands, which she took. 

“So… I guess I’ll be around for a while,” Lucian said quietly. “Roisin’s somewhere around three hundred years old now; Basile’s the youngest, he’s only twenty-eight.”

Alucard pursed his lips. “And they all don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“So I’ve still got some time to settle.” Lucian sighed, dragging her hands down her face.

“I suppose the real question now is what do we do next?” Sypha said.

Trevor realised they were all looking to him, and he crossed his arms while he thought.

“Well,” he said at last, “the knights were all in Styria for a while; I’m sure that’s given plenty of time for night creatures to move back into the area. And now with that fucking forgemaster right under our noses—”

“He wants to go home,” Lucian blurted out.

Trevor paused. “That being?”

“Dunno,” Lucian said, picking at the hem of her shirt. “Somewhere in Greece, he didn’t say where. I don’t think he’s a threat anymore, Trevor; he just wants to be left alone with his animals.”

Alucard made a face. “Animal _s?_ So more than just that dog of his?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Trevor sighed. “You know what? Fine,” he said. “I trust you, and I think I trust Leon’s judgement now, even if he’s a manipulative bastard.”

“He’s not manipulative,” Lucian protested. “He just wanted—”

“To shove this great big revelation off on you and make it your responsibility to tell us,” Trevor said shortly. “But—beside the point. We’ve got access to a distance mirror now; we can keep an eye on him and fuck off across Europe to Greece if the forgemaster starts causing trouble. Right now I think our best bet is to take down any night creatures in the area while Lucian figures out this whole…” He waved a hand at her. “All that on top of another portal to the Infinite Corridor? I think we should stay.”

“Agreed,” Sypha said. “Toulouse is a much bigger city than…” She trailed off, her hands tightening on Lucian’s, and she inhaled slowly through her nose, trying to gather herself. “If any night creatures come looking for that portal, all those people in the valley will be in danger.”

Lucian pulled Sypha into a hug, and Sypha shuddered in her arms. 

“I won’t have another Lindenfeld,” Sypha said, her voice catching on the name. “Or… or Braila.”

“You won’t,” Trevor promised, crouching to put a hand on her shoulder. “ _We_ won’t.”

* * *

Lucian’s training with Roisin intensified. Every day at the crack of dawn, they were out in the yard behind the cathedral, Roisin showing her how to use her spear to its full effectiveness.

Trevor put his newfound language abilities to use. He threw himself into the library, devouring tomes he thought he’d never have been able to read before; he started with the Brotherhood’s research into living relics, dove into works about forgemasters, and finally—what little information there was about the Infinite Corridor.

And Sypha and Alucard… 

Well, they spent time in the library, too, unaware that Trevor could hear their whisperings, Sypha’s giggles, Alucard’s soft laughter as they discussed the content of the new books written in the scant few languages they’d been unable to understand before. 

It… stung, if Trevor was being honest with himself. Just because he could _read_ the books of magic didn’t mean he could understand it. Sure, Lucian had the same issue—but she had her own magic to learn now.

Trevor passed by the table where Sypha and Alucard sat, their heads together as they bent over a book, and he looked away, ducking down another row of shelves. He let his fingers trail over the spines of the books before selecting one at random, flipping through the pages.

He should be happy they were finally happy. So why wasn't he?

Row upon row of magical formulae jumped out at him, incomprehensible for him to understand what they meant, even though he now understood what the runes themselves were, and he snorted, snapping the book shut and replacing it on the shelf.

“Face it,” he muttered to himself, “there’s just some things you’ll never be privy to, and this is one of them.”

* * *

Lucian landed facedown in the dirt again, winded, her spear beside her. She felt the prick of Roisin’s sparr axe between her shoulderblades and sighed. 

“You almost had me that time,” Roisin said, and withdrew her weapon. 

Lucian rolled over to look at her, letting her arms splay out to the sides with a groan. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“You’re learning fast,” Roisin, holding out a hand.

“Not fast enough,” Lucian said, remaining on the ground and feeling too dejected to get up. “I’ve been practicing for days and I haven’t gotten any better.” _Fft-fft-fft._

“You’ve improved tremendously,” Roisin said, pulling a reluctant (and very dusty) Lucian to her feet. Roisin got a toe under Lucian’s spear and kicked it into the air, where Lucian caught it. “You’re comparing yourself too much to me, I think. You forget, I have nearly three centuries of experience on you; it’ll be some time before you’re fighting on my level.”

Lucian sighed and scuffed a toe in the dirt. “I know…”

Roisin hummed, leaning against her sparr axe with her hip cocked. “Maybe if you went against Basile or Lorenzo,” she said thoughtfully. “They’re certainly much closer in age to you, which just might narrow the gap, so to speak.” She smiled. “And it would be good experience for you to practice against other types of weapons.”

Lucian perked up a little at that. “It would be, yeah.”

She and Roisin both felt Hector’s presence and turned to face the doors when he slipped outside, a bag over his shoulder and Cezar trotting at his heels. He froze like a child with their hand caught in the sweets, before looking resigned as Lucian crossed the distance between them.

She stopped in front of him, her eyes flicking to the bag. “Trying to sneak out?” she said dryly.

Hector pursed his lips, but nodded. “I thought it would be best to depart quietly.”

“Well,” Lucian said, and crouched to let Cezar sniff her hand. He licked her fingers, whining softly. “Glad we caught you.”

Hector stiffened at her choice of words, but relaxed when she added, “I would’ve missed saying goodbye to the little guy.”

“Still planning to head to Greece?” Roisin asked, and Hector nodded. Roisin pointed in the direction of Toulouse. “If you go towards the city—probably best to skirt it, with that dog—and take the south-eastern road, it’s a few days’ travel until you get to Narbonne. Ain’t what it used to be since the Aude flooded, but last we checked in there it was still a port city. Should be able to find a ship from there.”

“Do you have a way to pay?” Lucian asked, and Hector bit back a sigh, wondering _where_ this insistence on helping him was coming from.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said, hefting his bag a little higher. He nodded at Roisin. “Give Leon my thanks.”

She returned the nod. 

Hector startled slightly when Lucian held out a hand to him; he tentatively took it.

“Before you go,” Lucian said, and he cocked his head at her, “can I ask you something weird? It's been on my mind for a while.”

“I get the feeling you will anyway, but… go ahead.”

“What would happen if you tried to forge me?” Lucian asked, and behind her, Roisin facepalmed as Hector let out a startled bark of laughter. “Would I just explode, or—?”

“I… don’t know?” he said, taken aback and wondering what on _Earth_ had prompted her newly bizarre train of thought.

He wouldn’t miss this after he left. 

“You know what happens when a consecrated weapon kills a demon?” Roisin said.

Hector made a face, glancing at the spear in Lucian’s other hand. “Intimately.”

She followed his gaze and collapsed the spear as she let go of his hand. “ _Ah._ Look… take care on the road. And do something better with your life this time, will you?” she asked.

Like he would waste his time with that nonsense. But he merely offered her a wan smile and turned to go, whistling softly to Cezar. 

Lucian watched him leave, an uneasy feeling curling in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re thinking it, too, huh?” Roisin said, folding her arms.

“Letting him go is a bad idea?”

Roisin sighed. “He knows we have the mirror now; it’s possible the threat that we’ll keep checking in on him will be enough to keep him in line.”

“It’s not that,” Lucian said slowly. “More like… he betrayed Dracula, but he wasn't the only of Dracula's forgemasters. I saw the other one, very briefly during the battle. Hector will likely be a target, now, because of what he did."

Roisin glanced after Hector’s retreating back as he made his way down the hillside. “I’m sure he knows the risks.”

* * *

Hector did, which was why as he left the safety of the cathedral— _when did he consider the place safe?_ —a small jolt of adrenaline shot through him, and he paused to scoop Cezar up into his arms for reassurance. 

He’d managed to get that look at Isaac in the mirror, what felt like a lifetime ago. He had a small army of night creatures then; how many more might he have amassed _now?_

Without creatures of his own, Hector was painfully aware of how vulnerable he was, but _with_ creatures, he would have to make his way back to Rhodes the slow, dangerous route on foot. 

The air shimmered in front of him and he took a step back, Cezar barking before Hette emerged from the Infinite Corridor, holding his borrowed cloak and a pouch. 

“Leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”

Hector sighed, putting Cezar down. “Am I going to be dragged back? Is that it?”

Hette thrust out the cloak and the pouch. “I’m not letting you leave without these,” she said stubbornly. 

“That’s Leon’s cloak,” Hector said, but Hette shook her head.

“It’s yours to keep,” she said, and shoved it into Hector’s hands. “That old bat didn’t tell you? I’m going to have to give him a piece of my mind when he wakes up.”

Despite himself, Hector felt the corners of his mouth tugging in a smile as he folded the cloak over his arm. “I suppose this will be the last we’ll see of each other.”

Hette shook her head again and pressed the pouch into Hector’s other hand. It weighed heavy, coins clinking inside as his fingers curled around the leather. “If it is, I’ll be very cross,” she said, and punched him on the arm. Hector winced; she’d not meant to hit hard, but it still hurt. 

“I’ll… see what I can do,” Hector said. Anything to get her to leave so he could keep moving. 

Hette beamed and nodded, and the air shimmered around her—and then she was gone.

Cezar barked, paws scrabbling at Hector’s shins as he swung the cloak around his shoulders before tugging the strings of the pouch. A sizeable amount of livres lay inside, more than enough to pay for passage on a ship. 

All of this, after… everything. Hector turned to look up the hill, at the cathedral in the distance, just a speck to him now. 

Well. _Maybe_ he would see about visiting again. 

Maybe.

* * *

After dinner—it was Hette’s turn to cook, boiled meat pies with bacon and apples—the knights, Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard turned out to the training yard as soon as it was dark enough for Leon, loosely encircling Lucian and Basile as they faced off. 

Basile’s weapon of choice was a bec de corbin—a nasty combination of a spear and slender warhammer. He let it rest on his shoulder, looking wholly at ease. 

“First one on the ground loses,” Leon said, planting his hands on his hips and grinning. “A yield from the opponent counts as well. Best of three.” 

Basile smiled easily at Lucian. “We’ve both been trained by Roisin; though I doubt one week will be a match for six years. This should be interesting.”

Lucian let out a slow breath as she eyed his polearm. “You forget I helped face down Dracula,” she said, hoping nobody would bring up the fact she mostly got thrown into walls during that fight. “This should be interesting indeed.”

“She does remember getting her arse kicked, right?” Trevor muttered to Sypha, who shot him a withering look.

“ _En garde!_ ” Leon called, and Lucian and Basile settled into ready stances. “ _Prêts? Allez!_ ”

Basile was fast despite his heavier weapon, lunging at Lucian’s ankles to try and trip her up. 

Time seemed to slow down, Lucian following the arc of the polearm’s head, and brought her spear around to block it, the blow shuddering up her arms from the force of it. She slid her spear up the bec de corbin’s shaft, and Basile was forced to disengage or lose a finger. 

Lucian pressed the attack, thrusting at Basile’s face, and he ducked under her reach to try and puncture her side with a backhanded swing. She collapsed the spear, parrying again, and grabbed the shaft of the weapon in her free hand. 

“Not bad,” Basile panted, and Lucian bared her teeth at him in a grin. “But you can’t keep this up forever.” He yanked his bec de corbin away, and Lucian let go before she could be pulled along with it. 

She expanded her spear as she danced backwards, out of the way of another swing, then another, and when Basile leapt into the air to aim for her head, she rolled out of the way of the blow.

“What’s she doing?” Alucard murmured as they watched Lucian dance out of the way of blow after blow. “She’s not attacking anymore.”

Trevor’s gaze drifted to Lucian’s footwork—and he grinned, recognising _his_ lessons. “She’s wearing him out.” He kept his voice low, not wanting to distract the fighters, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Leon’s ear flick in their direction. “Basile’s bigger and stronger, but also slower. I think she’s waiting for—”

Lucian kicked off from the ground, sailing past Basile as he missed another swing. She collapsed her spear into a knife as she grabbed the back of his collar, wrapping her legs around his waist and putting the tip of the knife to his throat.

“Okay,” Basile said breathlessly, and they began to descend to the ground. “I yield.”

“ _Halte!_ ” Leon called as they touched down, Lucian sheepishly climbing off the knight. “First round to Lucian.”

Sypha put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly as the knights began applauding; Trevor whooped and elbowed a smiling Alucard, who rolled his eyes but clapped several times to be polite.

“Alright?” Lucian asked, bending over, hands on her knees.

Basile was breathing heavily, but he nodded and thumped her on the back, pulling away when she flinched. “I underestimated you. Next time won’t be so easy.”

“Duly noted,” Lucian said, forcing herself to straighten up. 

Basile offered a hand, and she took it, the both of them grinning at each other before moving to take their places.

“ _En garde!_ ” Leon called, and once again, they shifted into ready stances. “ _Prêts? Allez!_ ”

Basile opened with the same swing as the first time, and Lucian parried it, stepping inside his reach to collapse her spear and slash at his wrist. Basile instead merely dropped his weapon to grab her arm and hurl her bodily to the ground. 

Lucian gasped when, for the countless time that day, her back thudded into the dirt. 

“ _Halte!_ ” Leon called. 

“ _Shitfuck_ ,” Trevor groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “ _That_ was sloppy.”

“Don’t get hasty, Lucian,” Roisin said as they applauded Basile’s win. “You rushed into that one, projected it from a mile off.”

“She’s not wrong,” Basile said, holding the knife out to Lucian. She blushed, but nodded, turning it back into a spear.

“Somehow I get the feeling this last point’s going to you,” Lucian said as they moved back into position for the third time. 

* * *

Hector ended up finding shelter against the roots of an upturned tree. He’d made good distance that day, but decided it would be unwise to continue long into the night. Now, with a fire built and Cezar gnawing happily on a bone in his lap, he allowed himself to relax, if only a little.

He’d kept turning the morning’s events over in his mind as he walked, trying to just make _sense_ of it all. 

He absentmindedly twisted the spot on his finger where the ring used to be. 

It just didn’t seem like something he could reconcile. His own parents had been the first, of course, and they’d paid for it with their lives. But so many people between his home village and Rhodes were just the same: cruel, greedy, selfish bastards for whose deaths he did not, or would not have, shed a single tear. 

The drawn-out bloodshed of Dracula’s war, he’d never liked. The sensationalism of stringing up entrails and mounting heads on pikes to terrorise the populace in-between attacks left a bitter taste in his mouth. But the deaths themselves, he’d felt, were deserved.

Now… 

“Everything was simpler, then, wasn’t it, Cezar?” Hector murmured, rubbing the pug’s back. 

It would have been such a simple matter for Lucian to blast the pug without a second thought, and instead she’d cared for him, all the way from Wallachia to Styria, and returned him despite her obvious attachment. 

She had every reason to kill Hector when he was defenceless, and to withhold his coins from him—and she did neither. Sure, none of her companions had been happy about it, and he was certain they’d be even less pleased to find he’d disappeared. 

But Roisin pointed him in the direction of home; Hette made sure he could make it there. Despite them apparently being _made_ to hunt him and his creations. 

None of it made sense.

Cezar suddenly abandoned his bone and began to growl, hopping off of Hector’s lap and pointing in the direction of the undergrowth. 

Hector slowly rose, kicking dirt over the fire and reaching for the pathetic dagger he’d snuck out of the armoury.

Thinking back on it, they likely wouldn’t have minded if he’d helped himself to one of the hammers.

No time to regret that now; he heard a rustling in the bushes where Cezar was facing. 

And then—not a low growl, or a high-pitched shriek, but a crooning _song_ with a voice like soft trumpets. Hector’s blood ran cold and he scooped up Cezar, bolting into the forest and hoping that this was a wild night creature and not one of Isaac’s creations.

If it was the former, he had a chance to run until it got bored.

If it was the latter, he was as good as dead.

Cezar howled as the manticore’s tail rattled, and poison darts flew after them, embedding themselves into a nearby tree. 

Hector ran on.

* * *

Lucian found herself flat on her back after Basile pinned her under his bec de corbin’s shaft. A surge of panic washed over her, and she began to struggle.

“ _Halte!_ ” Leon called, and Basile let her go; she sat up, breathing heavily, rubbing her wrists.

Alucard broke ranks while the knights clapped for Basile, crouching next to Lucian but not touching her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, and Lucian sucked down several heaving breaths before nodding and pushing herself to her feet—though she was still trembling. She forced a smile and held out a hand to Basile, who looked her over and lightly tapped her hand, giving her silent permission to let it drop. Her relief must have been visible on her face, because he smiled at her.

“You fought well,” he said. “I think you nearly had me a few times in that last round.”

Lucian ducked her head, smiling. “Thank you. I look forward to meeting you as an equal opponent someday.”

Basile opened his mouth to respond when they felt it: a darkness passing over them, moving swiftly. Lucian felt herself seized with an overwhelming terror when she realised that whatever was flying overhead felt the same as the beast in Lindenfeld. 

And then it was gone, so quickly she might have thought it a part of her imagination before she saw the knights looking skyward as well.

“What’s the matter?” Leon’s voice came through as though from very far away. 

“It’s—” Roisin began. 

“Dracula’s other forgemaster,” Lucian whispered, and Alucard hissed, turning to look toward the sky, following the other knights’ gazes. 

“Worse than that,” Maud said grimly. 

“What could be worse than _that?_ ” Trevor demanded. 

Lucian’s ears were ringing, and her body felt incredibly light, colour flooding her vision. “Hector and Cezar are in danger.”

“Lucian, _don’t—!_ ” Basile lunged for her, but it was too late.

* * *

Hector’s face and arms were scratched and bleeding, and his shoulder ached from where he’d caught his foot on a root and tripped, taking the blow in an attempt to protect Cezar. The pug barked threats over his shoulder at the manticore, and when Hector caught a glance back at the night creature, it had the telltale glow to its eyes that could only mean this was one of Isaac’s.

Without warning, he burst through the trees to find himself in front of a cliff, and he skidded to a stop, mind whirling as he thought through the possibilities. 

He only saw one. 

Hector tossed Cezar to the ground and drew his dagger, turning to face the manticore. “Run, Cezar! Find somewhere to hide!”

More poison darts flew through the trees, and Hector rolled to the side; not a moment too soon as the manticore leapt from the trees, its jaws snapping an inch from where Hector had been a split second before.

He slashed at its paw, the dagger causing the manticore’s flesh to sizzle and burn. Hector barely had time to register the dagger was likely consecrated before the manticore whirled with another crooning song, its too-human face filled with rows of sharklike teeth, eyes glowing menacingly. Hector jabbed his dagger right at one of the eyes, and the manticore hissed, recoiling and rattling its tail in preparation to fire off another round of darts.

The air shimmered in front of Hector, and Lucian fell in front of him, staggering to her feet just in time to receive a volley of darts to the chest that were meant for him. 

“Lucian!” 

She stumbled when the manticore lunged at her, giving him enough time to jump to his feet, holding the dagger in a reverse grip. As the manticore sank its teeth into her shoulder, Hector plunged the blade into the beast’s neck. It thrashed, shaking him loose and sending him flying to land against the edge of the cliff. Lucian was tossed about like a rag doll, and Hector heard something snap.

Lucian raised a glowing hand and clamped it onto the manticore’s face with an awful sizzling sound, accompanied by the smell of burning demon flesh. “Hector, _run_ ,” she rasped, and he did—toward the manticore, to rip the dagger free and plunge it into the thing’s eye.

The manticore finally howled, letting go of Lucian. She fell to the ground, blood spurting from her shoulder as the air shimmered around them.

“Get back!” Roisin yelled, lifting her hands.

The clifftop was illuminated with blinding brilliance, but when the light died, the manticore was still standing, if severely burned. Charred skin hung off its frame, and half its face looked like it was melting around the dagger still embedded in its eye socket. The crack of a bullwhip came an instant before the tip of Leon’s whip wrapped around the dagger’s hilt, tugging it free in a spray of blood and sending it flying into Hector’s hand.

Alucard grabbed Lucian and spirited her away to safety, Sypha conjuring an arc of icicles in front of her and Trevor unfurling the Morning Star. 

“We’ll blast it,” Maud said, raising a glowing hand. In the other was a strange sort of firearm, which she levelled at the manticore. “The rest of you, finish it off.”

Between all of them working together, the manticore that had been so great a threat a scant moment before was reduced to ash. Leon spared a glance at Trevor, which was met with a nod before he went to check on Hector.

Lucian felt like she was flying, even after Alucard stopped running and began carrying her back to the others. “Hey,” she whispered, and she felt Alucard’s stride falter before he redoubled his pace. “Alucard—?”

“You’re going to be _fine_ ,” he said, but something wet landed on her cheek, then another. 

“Lucian!” Sypha yelled. Hearing her voice was like hearing it from underwater.

“Aw, fuck,” Lucian said, her head flopping to the side to grin at the others. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

“Get these barbs out,” Trevor said urgently, and Lucian felt a faraway tugging in her chest. “That was a manticore, their barbs are full of poison, it’s got to be hampering her ability to heal.”

The other knights exchanged glances. 

“Don’t— _no_ ,” Alucard said faintly, holding Lucian closer to his chest. “Not again. Not her.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done,” Hector said. “A manticore’s venom—”

“ _No!_ ” Alucard snarled, his eyes blazing red. Hector eyed him warily, but didn’t step back. “You don’t understand, she can—”

“Let’s go back to the cathedral,” Leon said, and Roisin put her hands on his and Hector’s shoulders. “Make her comfortable while she recuperates.”

“ _Wait—!_ ”

Maud grabbed Lucian from Alucard’s arms, transporting them back to the cathedral in a whirl of colour.

* * *

Hector stumbled when they arrived in the cathedral nave, sighing with relief when he saw Hette with Cezar grasped in her arms. He took the pug from her, fussing over Cezar and trying to process what had just happened.

Alucard, drenched in Lucian's blood, disappeared toward the doors in a flash of red; Leon blurred blue, and caught Alucard across the chest with his arm. 

“Let me go,” Alucard hissed, nose to nose with Leon.

Leon stared him down, showing the barest hint of fang in a challenge. “She’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Can’t one of you heal her?” Sypha said, looking around at the other knights, who all suddenly looked very uncomfortable. 

“Not as such, no,” Roisin finally said. She looked at Alucard, who still hadn’t backed down from Leon. “Please—sit down.”

Trevor went over to Alucard and put a tentative hand on his shoulder; Alucard jolted and whirled, fangs bared in a snarl. Trevor immediately reached for the Morning Star out of instinct before Alucard’s expression levelled out upon realising who he was hissing at.

“Alucard,” Trevor said. “We’re all worried, but she’ll be alright. Quick three-day nap and she’ll be back on her feet. But I think what they’ve got to say will help.”

Alucard looked very much like he wanted to argue, but Sypha came over to him, reaching for his hand until he closed the distance, his fingers curling loosely around hers. 

“We’ll check up on her as soon as possible,” Sypha promised, and he leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent—trying to reassure himself that _she_ was alive… and given time, Lucian would be again as well.

They didn’t know what it was like to bury her. They didn’t have to live through the pain of thinking she was never coming back.

As if Sypha could sense his thoughts, her hands squeezed on his. “It might be better for you not to visit her?”

Alucard wanted to say yes. That he couldn’t bear to relive that moment of finding her on the floor of the hold. But… “No,” he said. “I need to see.”

“Maud and I will make sure she looks… nice,” Hette said, though she sounded uncertain at the last word. “So it doesn’t look so bad. Promise, most of us have come back from far worse before.”

“Comforting, and also terrifying,” Trevor said, forcing a very strained smile. “Alucard, just—let’s hear Leon out first. You don’t need to see… _that_ , again.”

No. He didn’t.

Alucard allowed Sypha to draw him away to sit in one of the pews in the front. Trevor sat on Alucard’s other side, shoulder pressed up against his in a small attempt to offer comfort before Alucard pushed him away.

Leon sighed and dragged a hand over his face, looking around at the Brotherhood. “I can take it from here,” he said. “You should go rest up.”

Roisin put her hand briefly on Leon’s arm as she passed. One by one, the rest of the knights filed out, Hette casting one last glance at them before the door shut.

The silence in the cathedral was broken only by Cezar’s whimpering. 

“Alright, then,” Trevor said, folding his arms. “Two questions: first, what is this _new_ great and terrible secret you have to reveal to us, and second, are there any others after this?”

“I’m fairly sure this is the last one,” Leon said, looking resigned. “I suppose this is what I get for trying to spread it out, ease you into things.”

“Don’t make this about you,” Sypha said, surprised by the coldness in her own voice. “We’re big boys and girls, I’m sure we’ll be able to understand if you explain it in _small words._ ”

“...You’re right,” Leon said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I apologise. That was not my intent.” He sat back on the apse steps, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alucard, when your father trapped Walter Bernhard’s soul in the Crimson Stone, becoming a vampire wasn’t the only thing that happened to him. He also inherited Bernhard’s title as the Dark Lord—and became one of the most powerful beings in the world.”

Trevor and Alucard both looked to Sypha, who shrugged and looked at Hector.

He looked just as bewildered as the rest of them, and slightly in shock. 

Leon sighed. “Think the overlord of Hell itself.”

“My father is dead,” Alucard said, his voice low. “And is currently languishing in Hell with my mother.”

Leon nodded. “I surmised as such,” he said. “And when he died, the title passed on to another…”

* * *

Nearly five hundred miles away, in the vaulted hall of his claimed castle, Isaac Laforeze listened to the conversation with interest. 

When he’d learned Dracula’s son and the Belmont were on their way to kill Hector, he initially planned to use their little group as a distraction while he attacked the castle. But after seeing what _that girl_ and the knights who helped defend the border against Hector’s night creatures could do, he knew he needed to think about this carefully. 

He was certain Hector wouldn’t want to stay in the cathedral, and so spent time crafting his manticore carefully, a perfect specimen to go through the mirror and hunt Hector down once he was alone.

Isaac hadn’t counted on that girl to rush in and save him, nor the rest to join in. 

No matter. This was merely a setback, an inconvenient one at worst. 

They would make it their goal to stop him next, he was sure. Isaac had noticed his forging abilities growing stronger since Dracula’s death; until now, though, he hadn’t put much consideration as to why, believing it to be all the extra practice from those fools in the towns he passed through. 

Perhaps it was time to really put his abilities to the test. Create an army strong enough not even they could stand against him—and Hector would, at last, be dead.

A part of Dracula lived on in him. 

He clapped his hands, letting the shards of the mirror disassemble themselves to float aimlessly in the air once more.

And Isaac smiled.


	65. Chapter 65

Hector couldn’t seem to find the time to visit Lucian.

Or, that wasn’t quite true; Hector couldn’t seem to find the time to visit Lucian without Alucard being there, either bent over her bed with a book in hand and reading aloud in a low voice, or slumped against the wall by the bed, book open on his lap and chin resting on his chest as he dozed. Occasionally, Trevor or Sypha or both would be there as well; the knights, at least, seemed content to leave the room well enough alone, and Hector quickly decided to do the same, after one too many instances of ducking out of the room with a muttered apology.

The amount of devotion those four had to each other was staggering. How anybody could care that much about one other person, let alone _three_... 

Cezar hardly left his arms since they returned to the cathedral. He found a sort of comfort in the pug’s presence—knowing Cezar was okay and wasn’t going to be left abandoned to wander in southern France until the magic holding his body together faded away or some scavenger made off with him.

He kept replaying the manticore attack in his head, wondering if Lucian hadn’t only come for him to save Cezar when (as Lorenzo explained to him over dinner the first night after) they’d sensed its presence. 

But even as she’d been stuck between the demon’s teeth, she’d told _him_ to run… and he had, into danger, to save her.

And now here he was, hanging around the cathedral he’d fully intended to leave two days ago, waiting for… what, he wasn’t sure. Isaac to finally come kill him?

He certainly hadn’t survived getting dragged halfway across eastern Europe and being imprisoned by the Styrian council just for that.

Mateo caught him wandering the corridors late the second day and fell into step beside him. Hector glanced over at the man, normally rather quiet and reserved from what he’d seen.

“Scared to face her?” Mateo finally said. 

Hector pursed his lips as he thought. “I’m not sure that’s it, exactly,” he said. He wasn’t sure where Mateo seemed to be taking them, aside from deeper into the cathedral, but then again he hadn’t really bothered to explore until now, unwilling to risk running into anybody. “Things have been…”

Mateo waited, merely brushing what surely had to be an imaginary speck of dust off his doublet. 

“...Complicated, lately,” Hector finished when he couldn’t think of any better word to fill the silence.

“A good word for a bad situation,” Mateo agreed. He turned the handle of a small oak door set into a recess in the wall, and it swung open to reveal a room filled with dozens upon dozens of wooden casks, with a well near the entrance.

“What is this place?” Hector asked, pausing on the threshold. 

Mateo began rolling one of the casks towards the stand by the well, wedging the barrel in place before pulling out the bung and setting it aside. “Well, since hunting night creatures doesn’t usually result in good pay,” he said, lining a trough up to the mouth of the hole, “this is how we make our income. It’s surprisingly lucrative.”

Hector leaned against the wall, Cezar panting in his arms as he watched Mateo haul bucket after bucket to pour into the basin by the well, which fed into the cask from the trough. He frowned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this meant to be a brewery?”

Mateo shot him a small grin over his shoulder. “Something like that,” he said. He tipped the last bucket of water into the basin before touching a hand to the barrel. The sharp smell of alcohol hit their noses, and when Hector leaned in a little closer, the water in the cask seemed to have turned a rich amber colour.

“Orujo,” Mateo explained, tapping the bung back into place with a hammer and rolling the barrel to the opposite side of the room from where he’d retrieved it. “It’s a type of pomace brandy.”

Hector stared. “You just transformed that water into brandy,” he said, rubbing Cezar’s ear when the pug began to whine for attention. 

“I did,” Mateo agreed, going to fetch another empty cask to repeat the process.

“Can you all do that?” Hector asked after a moment.

“Well, not all of us make brandy,” Mateo said. He glanced up at the ceiling in thought. “Though Lorenzo can make Grappa—it’s another pomace brandy.”

“It’s unique to everyone, then,” Hector murmured, and he didn’t know if he liked how Mateo’s gaze fixed on him. 

“You’re delaying whatever it is you want to talk about.”

Hector looked down at Cezar, focusing intently on the dog. “I’m not really in the habit of disclosing information to strangers.”

“Ha! A reasonable sentiment,” Mateo said as he began drawing more water from the well. “You remind me a lot of my younger self.”

Despite himself, one of Hector’s eyebrows went up. “Younger, meaning…?”

Mateo shrugged. “A hundred or so years ago? I would have been sixteen, seventeen, somewhere around there—but…” His lips curled in a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Very angry with the world, and out for blood. I don’t know how much, if anything, you heard of the Castile region at the time, but to make a very long story short, Portugal lost their king to the Black Death. He had no successors, just a daughter who was to marry Castile’s king, and bring Portugal under Castile’s control.”

“I can’t believe Portugal was happy about this,” Hector said slowly, wondering where this was going.

Mateo barked out a laugh. “Very much, no. But for me, it was a chance to earn some coin, to learn how to fight, to join the army, and…” He brushed his fingers over the cask before he brought the mallet down on the bung. “Punish those I felt deserving. To _kill._ ”

Hector blinked. He never paid much attention to Mateo before; the other man always seemed to fade into the background between brash Roisin and cocky Basile. “You?”

“Mhm. You know what happened?” Mateo began rolling the barrel to the other side of the room. “I took a cannonball to the stomach. Blasted clean through my innards and spine and out the other side. Armour was shredded.”

“Your first death?” Hector guessed, hands stilling on Cezar’s back as he contemplated the horrific experience.

“Humans are funny creatures, Hector Galanis,” Mateo said as he retrieved another empty cask. “I didn’t wake up a changed man right away, but the experience, the suffering? Realising what I inflicted on others?” He tilted his head as he studied Hector, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Well, needless to say, I walked away from that life. Got an apprenticeship and took up painting afterwards, and I actually turned Sieur Trantoul’s offer down at first when he and another knight—may God rest his soul—came to recruit me.”

Hector shifted his weight as he watched Mateo work. “What made you change your mind?”

Mateo shrugged. “Call it a… gut feeling,” he said, pausing to let his hand settle over the spot Hector guessed the cannonball had struck all those years ago. “It seemed like the time was right.”

“I… see,” Hector said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he did.

Mateo gave him a look that suggested he knew exactly what Hector meant by that, but he didn’t comment. “Unless you plan on setting that dog down and helping me, do you mind letting me get back to work?”

Hector inclined his head and took that as his cue to leave.

The spot on his finger where the ring used to be was tingling.

* * *

He found Alucard awake when he next stopped by Lucian’s recovery room. Hector hesitated outside the door, but then from inside he heard Alucard’s soft voice: “Enter.”

So Hector shifted Cezar to one arm and pushed the door open. 

Alucard didn’t look at him when he came in; he was sitting in his chair by Lucian’s bed. “Are you planning to run off again, or are you staying?”

Hector approached and sat in one of the empty chairs set around the bed; Cezar whined when he saw Lucian’s body: skin pale and lips blue, but otherwise peaceful-looking, dressed in a white linen nightgown and laid out on top of the sheets, and Hector set Cezar on the mattress. Cezar pawed at Lucian’s body and whined before curling up by her hip so her stiff fingertips just brushed the top of his head.

“The, um.” Hector cleared his throat. “The knights did a good job with her.”

“I expect they have it to a science, by now,” Alucard said. His head remained bowed over the book in his hands; Hector got a look at the cover, smiling faintly when he saw the title.

“ _The Iliad_?” 

Alucard _did_ look up at this, and nodded. “We never got to finish it before we set out to kill you.” His gaze was accusatory, and Hector couldn’t hold it. He’d always been bad with eye contact, but something about being stared down by the lover of the dead girl who took a blow meant for him made it just that bit harder.

“Do you think she can hear?” Hector asked, folding his hands on his lap.

Alucard sighed and closed the book; Hector noted the bookmark remained in its place several chapters closer to the front. “I know she can’t,” he said. “She told me that the last time this happened, it was like being in limbo. No Heaven or Hell.” He smiled mirthlessly. “I wonder if that is what she has to look forward to for her final rest.”

Hector paused, decided _not_ to ask about the ‘last time’, and dug out his coins, rolling them over his knuckles. “I could try something, if I may?” he asked, and it didn’t escape him how Alucard was eyeing the coins warily. “Nothing that will harm her, I swear it.”

“Much like you swore to my father, I’m sure,” Alucard said cooly.

Hector’s hands closed over the coins. “I’m curious if the reason why is because her soul is still in her body.”

He could _feel_ Alucard’s gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. 

“Then… be _careful_ ,” Alucard said, and his voice cracked slightly.

He knew he had to be. Lucian’s question about exploding if he tried to forge her had been asked in jest, but Roisin’s confirmation meant this would be a tricky matter. Normally, when forging, he was pulling a soul to inhabit an empty vessel. However, if this was _not_ , in fact, an empty vessel… it might explain a few things.

Hector pretended he didn’t hear it as he put one hand on Lucian’s forehead, cool to the touch with that familiar texture of _deadness_ to the skin. He’d handled plenty of cadavers in his time; it never bothered him before, and it didn’t bother him now as he called blue sparks to the coins in his other hand, holding it out over her body.

Something blindingly hot fluttered under his fingers, painfully bright behind his eyes, and Hector jerked back with a gasp, only barely managing to hold onto his coins.

Cezar lifted his head and barked.

“Is she—?” Alucard began.

“In there,” Hector said, the coins slipping from his grasp to drop to his lap. “Absolutely. Strong as ever, I would be willing to bet.”

The sag of relief to Alucard’s shoulders, crossed with the expression of horror on his face, made Hector feel like he’d stumbled in on something deeply personal. 

“Anyway,” Hector said, putting the coins away with shaking hands, “I just wanted to…” He hesitated. _Pay his respects_ definitely wasn’t it, especially since he certainly had none to pay; and besides, she’d apparently be up and walking around again the day after tomorrow. 

  
To hide his embarrassment, he hastily scooped up Cezar and cleared his throat. “I should be going,” he said, and decided to beat a hasty retreat before he managed to cock things up even _more_.


	66. Chapter 66

“So first things first: We assume he has a transmission mirror and that he can be watching us at any time.”

Trevor nodded, his head bent over the table with Leon’s in his war room in the crypts. “Which means we can’t talk about _anything_ until Sypha finishes her spell,” he said in frustration. 

“I’m nearly finished,” Sypha said, pausing to rub the dark shadows under her eyes. She had Basile following her around the room with a book held open for her as she painted sigils and runes of magic on the cabinets and floor. The research this time had taken her longer than she would have liked, but she wasn’t about to demand Alucard leave Lucian unattended, not after…

Well. 

At least Lucian would be awake later today if she was on schedule, and then Alucard could stop acting like a brooding hen.

“How nearly is nearly?” Trevor asked, and since Alucard wasn’t there to do it for her, Sypha flipped him off, grinning to herself at Trevor’s startled laugh.

“ _Nearly,_ ” she said, finishing off the last rune before setting the paint pot on Leon’s desk. “Thank you, Basile.”

“Need anything else?” he asked, tucking the book under his arm.

Sypha grinned and held out her hands. “Stand back.”

This was a spell she was _particularly_ proud of, one that she never would have been able to put together without Maud’s blessing of tongues. She’d woven a multitude of languages into a protective barrier—not a physical one, but a magical one that would shield the room against scrying. 

She began to chant, and the runes she’d painted glowed, blue-white light streaking from rune to rune to form a web that enclosed the room in its entirety. The light brightened, and Sypha squinted against the sudden brightness while her companions shielded their own eyes.

  
When it faded, the runes she’d painstakingly painted had vanished—which meant it had worked.

“We’re clear,” she said, and an audible sigh of relief went around the room. “It will take me some time to cover the rest of the cathedral, however.”

“Start with the Brotherhood’s quarters first,” Leon said. “And your own. Hector will be Isaac’s primary target; he’ll likely keep his eyes on Hector, which leaves you free to work on your wards. With any luck, by the time he realises we’re cutting off his way to see inside, it will be too late.”

“If he can’t see inside the cathedral, that means he can’t use a transmission mirror to send a whole bunch of night creatures straight to our rooms, yeah?” Trevor said, and Leon nodded. “So once the whole cathedral is done, we’ll be safe, barring a direct attack.”

Leon cast a glance toward his bedroom, and Sypha bit her lip.

“Assuming nothing comes out of the portal,” she said, her heart sinking. “I could research more wards to put around—?”

Leon shook his head. “It’s a nice thought, but it wouldn’t work,” he said. “The Infinite Corridor transcends time and space; no ward, no matter how complex, could contain it. It’s a law unto itself, and we have yet to figure out _why._ ”

“Hang on,” Trevor said, swinging to look at Leon. “It actually _does_ transcend time? You know that for a fact?”

“Maud’s got a wheellock pistol,” Basile piped up before Leon shot him a look. “Um. Sir.”

“The fuck’s a wheellock pistol?” Trevor asked.

Basile looked like a deer caught grazing in the back garden in the middle of the night. “Something from the sixteenthcenturypleasedon’ttrytokillme—”

“So you’ve _actually_ got the ability to travel through time?” Trevor said, folding his arms. “And all you’ve done with that is nick a firearm from next century?” He looked incredulously between Leon and Basile. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” Basile protested.

“I’m guessing it’s more complicated than we think,” Sypha said, and Leon nodded. “I’ve read theories on temporal magic before; speculation that tugging on the threads of time the wrong way would cause everything to become tangled.”

“Maud came to us from the year 1536,” Leon said. “An accident, on her part; she didn’t know about her powers at the time. The temporal backlash from Maud’s arrival created a number of great storms. It ended up being called the _Grote Mandrenke_ —the Great Drowning of Men.”

Sypha’s eyes were huge. “I’ve heard the stories,” she said. “Tens of thousands dead—but how did you know she caused that?”

“Roisin and the other knights with us at the time sensed the warping of reality,” Leon said grimly. “It’s… entirely possible it’s a coincidence, but not one we want to risk after that.”

“Okay, okay, time travel bad, I’m shutting up,” Trevor said, internally bristling at the knowledge the possibility was _there_ and too dangerous to use.

“We’d prefer to _not_ inadvertently cause the end of the known universe if we can help it,” Leon added dryly, ignoring Trevor’s frustrated groan. 

“Do you think Maud would mind if I asked her about her arrival?” Sypha asked eagerly. “This is fascinating, really—and perhaps with some more study and research, I could determine if she was the cause of the storms and if so, how to prevent it.”

Trevor’s hand settled at her waist. “If anybody could, it would be you,” he said, and Sypha leaned up to kiss his cheek. 

“You’re right—it would be,” she said, beaming at him.

Leon chuckled. “I don’t see why not, but that’s for her to decide. Basile—please take Sypha to the others’ rooms. Try to avoid walking through the corridors where possible; I don’t want Isaac catching wind of what we’re doing.”

Basile stood to rapid attention and snapped a salute. “Absolutely, sir!”

Trevor caught Sypha’s hands in his own. “Hey,” he said. “If that bastard sends anything through the mirror? Run straight back here.”

Sypha cupped his face, smiling. “You say that like I can’t take care of myself.”

Trevor chuckled softly, letting his forehead fall against hers. “I know you can,” he said after a moment. “Just in the event you find something you can’t fight—”

“ _Trevor._ ”

He pressed back against her mouth when she silenced him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

“Just promise,” he murmured when they broke apart.

“ _Promise_ ,” Sypha said, and tapped his nose with one of her slender fingers. She grinned and pulled away, taking Basile’s arm. “Be back soon.”

They disappeared, and Trevor turned to Leon.

“You know Isaac probably heard everything the other night about him being the new Dark Lord, right?” Trevor said immediately. _God_ , it felt good to finally be able to talk about what had been eating at him.

Leon pursed his lips and nodded. “If we’re going to strike soon, it shouldn’t make too much of a difference,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I realise now it was foolish of me to tell all of you so openly, knowing we were likely being watched, but I felt it was more important to reassure everyone Lucian would be okay.”

Trevor dragged a hand down his face. “I _did_ believe you.”

“Yes,” Leon said, and raised an eyebrow. “But I’d rather not have had to subdue Alucard. He lost enough already.”

“Lucian was going to come back,” Trevor said, and scowled when Leon raised an eyebrow at this. “ _What?_ ”

“You really act as though you are so callous towards her?”

Trevor looked away. “It’s not that,” he said at long last. “I mean… maybe a bit. But knowing she’ll be alright, it changes things.”

“But?”

Trevor let out a long breath, looking away. “Alucard’s already lost her once,” he said after a moment. “Losing her again, even temporarily…”

Leon nodded. “In the meantime, let’s go over what we already know,” he said, opening the case on the table so the mirror rose into the air. “Show me Isaac Laforeze, please.”

The mirror shimmered, and in a very bizarre moment, they found themselves watching Isaac watching Hector through an enormous mirror. 

Trevor swore when he saw it. “That thing’s big enough to transport an army.”

“Which he has,” Leon said, gnawing on his lower lip in thought. “Though I doubt he will want to attack us anytime soon; his night creatures would fall to us too quickly.”

“Until he starts making them tougher,” Leon said. “Hector said that manticore would have been a more complex forge than some goblins or gargoyles, but the longer we wait to nip this in the bud, the more time Isaac has to create monsters that the Brotherhood will find difficult to face.”

“It took all six of them blasting the thing and it still wouldn’t die,” Trevor said, shaking his head. 

The air shimmered beside them, and Roisin and Maud appeared beside them. “Sypha just finished our quarters,” Maud said, as Roisin went to stand by Leon’s shoulder. 

Roisin whistled. “That’s a big mirror.”

Trevor spared a glance at Maud’s pistol. It was slimmer and longer than the few matchlock pistols he’d seen in the past, and certainly better-made. 

The longer he spent with these knights, the more he realised just how fucking weird his life had gotten since Gresit.

* * *

Lucian’s eyes fluttered open, and she groaned softly, lifting a stiff arm to feel at her chest, tugging away the neck of her nightgown. The bite marks and puncture wounds from the manticore’s quills had been bandaged up, and she let her hand fall with a soft groan. 

She was sore all over, but definitely in a better way than she’d been before—that is, to say, dead.

She heard movement to the side and turned her head to see Alucard asleep on the floor beside her, his back to the wall and chin on his chest. Lucian worked her hand off the bed to lightly touch the top of his head, and he jerked awake, smiling when he saw her looking at him.

“You didn’t—” Lucian swallowed a few times, working away the dry gumminess in her mouth. “You didn’t stay here the whole time waiting for me, did you?”

“It’s good to have you back,” Alucard said, which Lucian took to mean ‘yes’. He rose and sat in one of the chairs beside her bed, gripping her hand between both of his. “How are you feeling?”

“...Thirsty?” Lucian said, and despite himself, Alucard chuckled. “Can you help me sit up?”

Alucard slid an arm under her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position and helping her get settled against the headboard. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, and in a flash of red disappeared out the door. Lucian was barely able to count to ten before he was back with a pitcher of water and a pewter cup, which he filled before handing to her. 

Lucian sipped hesitantly at first before realising how thirsty she was and proceeded to gulp it down. “Where are—?”

“Trevor and Sypha have been busy while you were… asleep,” Alucard said, and Lucian bit back a grimace at his avoidance of the word _dead_. 

“With what?” Lucian asked, and Alucard glanced around before leaning in, brushing his lips against her ear.

“The forgemaster has a viewing mirror. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

Lucian blanched, but nodded as he drew back. She put a hand to her chest, fingers splaying over the bandages. “So, uh, if I’m alive—how come—?”

“You remember when my father’s talons injured you in our fight against him?” Alucard said, his fingers brushing over Lucian’s collarbone as he spoke.

“Would you know, it managed to completely slip my mind?” Lucian said dryly, and at Alucard’s unamused look, sighed. “Yeah. Let me guess—similar reason?”

He nodded. “Unfortunate, but unavoidable.” His hand moved up to cup her cheek, his expression softening. “I missed you.”

Lucian leaned up on one elbow to kiss him. Alucard’s mouth was careful—like he was afraid to break her again. 

“Hey, you know me,” she said, when they broke apart. “I’ll always come back for you.”

Alucard brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, and he gave her a tiny smile. “I know.”

He froze when Basile and Sypha stepped out of the air beside them, relaxing when he saw who it was. Sypha held a jar of paint in her hands, which she quickly set on the bedside table to pull Lucian into a tight hug.

“Ow!” Lucian gasped, and Sypha immediately let go.

“Sorry,” Sypha said, looking sheepish. "I forgot about the bandages."

"It's alright," Lucian said, squeezing her hand. Sypha squeezed back and gave Lucian a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, then?” Basile asked, nodding at Lucian with a grin. 

She grinned tiredly back at him and swung her legs off the bed; Alucard helped her unsteadily to her feet, and she gave Sypha a much more careful hug. “Loads better than I was,” she said. She glanced at the jar of paint, then at the book Basile was holding tucked under one arm. “New spell while I was out?”

“Something like that,” Sypha said, tapping her nose and picking up the jar. “I’ll tell you when it’s finished.”

Alucard’s arm settled around Lucian’s waist as they watched Sypha make her way around the room, drawing runes on the walls and floor. Basile trailed after her with the book, though Sypha barely needed to glance at it after drawing the same sigils so many times. 

“What’s she—?” Lucian began, but Basile shot her a warning glance, shaking his head.

“Mirror,” Alucard murmured, and Lucian stifled a groan.

She opted to get more water to counteract the gumminess in her mouth, sipping as she watched Sypha with interest. Though she couldn’t understand the formulae, she did pick out individual runes, the most frequently-recurring one being _concealment_. 

_Ah. So that’s what Sypha was doing._

Lucian bounced on the balls of her feet, impatient despite her exhaustion, and her eyes lit up as she watched Sypha begin casting her spell. 

Alucard let out a sigh of relief when the runes faded. “Sypha, you really are brilliant,” he said.

Sypha smiled at him, though it looked tired. “And this time, you can’t take any of the credit,” she said. Her tone was friendly, but there was a somewhat resentful edge to it that Lucian made a quiet mental note of. 

No wonder Alucard had avoided her earlier question if it was causing tension between him and the others. _Great._

Why did dying have to be so complicated?

The tightening of Alucard’s arm around her shoulders told her he hadn’t missed the implication. 

“So is it safe now?” Lucian asked. “To talk, I mean?”

“It’s safe,” Sypha confirmed. She rubbed her eyes; Lucian noticed she looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well. “There’s a lot you’ve missed over the last few days—”

She was cut off by the sudden arrival of Lorenzo in the room. “Are you finished?” he asked Sypha urgently, glancing around the room. At her nod, he took a deep breath. “Things just got more complicated. Two people just came through the portal in the crypt—one of them says he knows you and Trevor.”

Sypha’s eyes went huge. “It _can’t be_. Is it—?”

“The Count Saint Germain.”

Sypha swore with enough vehemence she could have made Trevor blush. When she petered out, her fists were clenched at her sides, her shoulders trembling, the only sound in the room her heavy breathing.

Into the silence, Basile spoke. “...Who?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the delay getting the chapter out... and to leave it on a cliffhanger. Consider the story on temporary hold until mid-August; I have finals to turn in and a move to deal with, so until sometime after August 16th, I won't be updating. I'll definitely keep notes of any future ideas I get, though. ;)
> 
> See you in August!


	67. Chapter 67

It was with no small amount of trepidation that they returned to the crypt, Sypha’s hand seeking out Lucian’s for support. Lucian gave her hand a small squeeze, trying to be reassuring, but it did nothing to ease Sypha’s growing sense of dread.

The last time she’d seen Saint Germain was a night she’d tried so hard to shove to the back of her mind, to the point she’d started considering Trevor’s particular way of coping. She likely would have turned to drink had she not needed to keep her mind sharp for her spellcasting, her researching, her _memory_ for stories… but the appeal was definitely there. 

And now the memories were flooding back in full force—the fire, the screams, the desperation as more and stronger demons emerged from the hellgate.

The memories blurred, and suddenly it wasn’t Lindenfeld, but _Braila_ , and Sypha felt like the wind was knocked out of her again.

She was the demons of Lindenfeld to the people of Braila. 

Lorenzo led them down into the crypt, Basile and Alucard right behind him, but Sypha trailed along at the back of the group, her feet seeming to grow heavier with every step closer to Saint Germain.

The rows of busts of knights long since departed seemed to stare at her accusingly as she passed.

_Murderer._

Lorenzo pushed open the clawed doors and the knights assembled inside turned to them. Saint Germain lounged with his back to the large table, hands resting on it behind him, looking for all the world unconcerned with the fact he’d just dropped in on an already-tense situation. 

Beside him, ramrod-straight in contrast to Saint Germain, was a man Sypha had never seen before. At least, she was relatively sure he was a man; there was an air of androgyny to him not unlike Lucian’s. His long hair was the white of bleached bones, his elaborate suit the same incredibly clean colour, and a delicate blade with an intricate hilt hung at his hip. His face was narrow, chin pointed, and his eyes were a piercing grey. He wore a simple monocle, and was idly examining an ornate silver pocketwatch, just as unconcerned with things as Saint Germain was.

Trevor had been watching the pair warily, but turned when the group entered the room, his eyes looking past Lorenzo, past Basile and Alucard, and fixing on Sypha. He started forward, but Sypha gave a small shake of her head, and Trevor nodded, shifting back uneasily. 

The man in white looked up from his watch and smiled when he saw them. “Right on time. This moment was preordained.” He returned the watch to his waistcoat and gave a small bow. “My name is Aeon. I know some of you are already familiar with my companion, the Count Saint Germain.”

Saint Germain gave them a lazy salute, his gaze fixing on Sypha. He smiled when he saw her. “It’s so very good to see you again; congratulations, by the way.”

Sypha frowned, but she nodded. “You made it out alive,” she said quietly, and as she said the words, it was like a small weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“I did say I would see you again,” Saint Germain said, his eyes sparkling. The sparkle died down when he turned to glower at the room at large. “Though it wouldn’t have happened if you lot hadn’t been _blinking_ all over the bloody place.”

If it were possible, Leon would have gone even paler. “You were able to track our movements?”

“From inside the Infinite Corridor, yes,” Aeon said, rolling a glowing stone between his fingers that Sypha recognised immediately. “Every time one of you slips in and out without using a portal, it gives off a unique signature that can be traced with one of these stones. We’re lucky you’ve done it so many times in this cathedral you opened a near-permanent portal into the place.”

“... _Shit._ ” Roisin dragged her hands through her curly hair, glancing at Leon. “Sieur Trantoul—this means—”

“We can’t go straight to Italy,” Leon agreed heavily. 

Saint Germain raised an eyebrow. “Off to kill Dracula’s other forgemaster, were you?”

Trevor folded his arms. “Why do you ask?”

“You cannot do that,” Aeon said flatly.

“Fucking watch us.”

“If you were to kill Isaac Laforeze, you would unleash a far greater threat on this world,” Aeon said, meeting Trevor’s glare with a level gaze. “According to my notes, you should already be aware that he is the current holder of the title of Dark Lord.”

“What notes?” Leon said, his brow furrowing. 

Aeon reached into his waistcoat and produced a strange device—a very thin sheet of metal with a glowing surface. “Transcribed from the _Tempus Devorator_ by one Lucian Enache.”

Lucian made a small strangled noise as Leon took the strange device, peering at it before Aeon swiped a finger over its surface. Leon’s eyes went huge, and he began scrolling.

“What is that?” Roisin asked, peering over Leon’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Technology from very far in the future,” Aeon said. “I find it’s more convenient to carry this around than the original tome.”

“But I haven’t written anything,” Lucian protested.

“Not yet,” Aeon agreed, his tone still very neutral. It didn’t even seem like an act; Sypha got the impression this was a man who was unphased by a great deal of things, and wasn’t used to showing emotion even in a private setting, let alone one as public as this.

Maud crossed her arms, eyeing the device warily. “The last time any of us travelled through time—”

“Ah, yes, the _Grote Mandrenke_ ,” Saint Germain said, rubbing his chin. “Lucian mentioned as such. Your speculation was correct; there’s a reason we use portals to travel through time—”

“You mean besides the fact you can’t get into the Corridor otherwise,” Trevor said flatly.

“Well, er, yes,” Saint Germain said, and cleared his throat. “But also because the Infinite Corridor is a delicately woven creation; it has cracks, leaks, and the more a portal is used, the wider the cracks become.”

“...What happens if it becomes too wide?” Sypha asked, terrified of the answer.

Aeon’s pale eyes flickered to her. “Are you familiar with the name Galamoth, Sypha Belnades?”

She frowned at her name before figuring Lucian had—will have?—included it in her book, but the name Galamoth… 

Leon cleared his throat, and they looked to him. His face was grave. “We should head to the library.”

* * *

Roisin rallied the other knights to begin preparing for what was now looking like a long march to Italy while Leon led the way to the library, his cloak streaming behind him. Sypha fell into step beside Saint Germain, crossing her arms loosely as she looked up at him.

“Where did you go?” she asked quietly. “After you closed the portal, I thought you were gone… forever.”

“The Library,” Saint Germain said.

“...Which library?”

“Not _which_ library,” Saint Germain said, putting a ring-encrusted hand to his chest. “ _The_ Library. Aeon and I were researching how Galamoth was sealed away, but all we could find was that it was the bloody Brotherhood that did it.”

“ _Will_ do it,” Leon said. “According to you.”

“We spent some time searching for the portal where it happens,” Aeon said. Even his walk was deliberate and thoughtful, each step placed with utmost care. “We could find ones from before, ones from after, but the event itself keeps evading us.”

“What exactly is this library?” Alucard asked.

“The Library,” Saint Germain said. “Said to be the ultimate collection of knowledge, located at the end of the universe.”

“I was stranded there for the better part of two decades,” Aeon said, folding his hands behind his back. “It gave me plenty of time to research and think about how we might defeat Galamoth.”

“Couldn’t have put that in your book, could you?” Trevor said, and Lucian flipped him off. 

“Hang on,” Sypha said. “Twenty _years?_ ”

Aeon nodded. “It’s an unfortunate fact for those of us without an inherent connection to the Corridor that we cannot simply open portals at will,” he said. “I gave my chronolith to Saint Germain, that he might escape the corridor and find me at another time.” He raised an eyebrow at Saint Germain, who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I did exactly that,” he said. “It’s hardly my fault the blasted Corridor is impossible to work with once you’re inside it. Though,” he added, giving Lucian a sidelong glance, “I suppose that was the intent, wasn’t it? To try and prevent Galamoth’s escape, it would certainly make things more difficult.”

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Lucian protested. 

Saint Germain chuckled. “Forgive me; it’s just fascinating to finally meet the person whose words I’ve read many times before. Though, I saw you in Lindenfeld, didn’t I?”

Sypha flinched at the name, and she pressed a fist to her mouth, inhaling sharply as a cold chill took over her body. Trevor put an arm around her shoulders, and she sagged into his warmth, wishing he could drive away the memories with it.

“Only… only briefly,” Lucian said, remembering all-too-vividly her dream where she’d slipped through the Corridor to see the burning town.

“Well,” Saint Germain said, smiling at her with an odd twinkle in his eye, “it’s good to finally meet you.”

“Thanks?” Lucian said uncertainly. “Sorry, just—Trevor and Sypha know you—”

“ _That’s_ debatable,” Trevor muttered.

“—but who exactly _are_ you two?”

Aeon adjusted his monocle. “We are the timeless and the undying,” he said. “Souls who escaped from Hell through the Infinite Corridor to find our way back to the realm of the living.”

“Great,” Trevor muttered. “More immortal bullshit?”

“Indeed,” Aeon said, unperturbed. “In time, we will come to work closely with the Brotherhood of Light in pursuit of shared goals.”

Lucian eyed the device in his hand. “According to me?”

“According to some of your subordinates, actually,” Aeon said. “I never had the chance to meet you before now.”

Lucian rubbed her eyes; she could feel a headache forming. “It feels like the more you talk, the less I understand.”

Leon pushed open the door to the library, and Aeon stifled a groan at the sight of all the rows of shelves that stretched out before them.

“Surely you would be used to the sight of this,” Saint Germain said lightly as he pushed past his companion.

“If I never saw another library again, it would still be too soon,” Aeon said, his lips thinning to a line. 

“And you really spent _twenty years—_ ” Lucian began.

“Please let us not waste more precious time reiterating things we have already covered,” Aeon said. He brushed past Leon, making a beeline for a back corner of the library. Leon paused before falling into step beside Aeon.

“Not your first time here, I take it,” Leon said dryly.

“No,” Aeon said, stopping in front of a shelf and selecting a dusty folio, barely a finger’s width in thickness. “Though you have a much more extensive collection when I will visit for the first time.”

“I need a fucking drink,” Trevor said grumpily. 

Sypha leaned up on tiptoes to look around Aeon’s shoulder as he flipped open the book. He sighed. “Of course it would be a footnote,” he said, his mouth curling. 

“References to the demon are few and far between,” Leon said. He leaned against the shelf, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Most of the ones I’ve come across were in copies I couldn’t acquire for myself, for various reasons. But...” He turned, glancing over the shelf, and selected another tome. “Everything in this shelf has mentions, references to Galamoth, in small bits and pieces I have collected over the years. This book in particular will be of interest to you…”

Sypha’s eyes widened when she recognised the book of prophecies—and widened still when Leon flipped to a particular page. “The Sleeping Soldier?”

Trevor and Lucian immediately looked to Alucard, whose brow furrowed. “I thought the prophecy referred to my father.”

Leon wordlessly held out the book; Alucard took it, frown deepening. 

_Beneath Gresit lies a soldier in dreamless slumber, and he will be awakened by a hunter, a scholar, and a priest. When the Dark Lord’s hordes descend on Wallachia, the heroes will henceforth undo the damage wrought to time by the demon, and restore the Belmont name to glory through their love._

“It doesn’t even rhyme,” Trevor said by Alucard’s ear, and Alucard jerked back, shooting him a glower.

Saint Germain scoffed. “Why the fuck should it rhyme?”

“Dunno,” Trevor said, crossing his arms. “It’s a prophecy. Prophecies should rhyme.”

“Well, then, next time, _you_ can write the prophecy,” Saint Germain said, waving a hand. “Hard work, writing prophecies, you know. Trying to give enough information to set people on the right path without directly dictating their actions lest they make the wrong decisions and send the timeline going, how shall I put it? Screwbally.”

“But no pressure,” Trevor muttered.

“This isn’t the prophecy passed down by the Speakers,” Sypha said, frowning as she took the book from Alucard. “Ours never mentioned anything about a demon or time…”

“Things get lost in translation over the centuries,” Alucard said. “I’ve no doubt the Speakers have passed down the legend exactly as they encountered it, but that’s not to say their source didn’t get some of the details wrong.”

Sypha frowned, flipping through the book and glancing over the other prophecies. She would definitely have to come back to that one later. “Are all of these by you?” she asked, glancing up at Saint Germain.

“Oh, good heavens, no,” he said, chuckling. “Who has the time to do that sort of work?” He stroked his beard for a moment before looking to Leon. “I would very much like to have a drink now. Preferably some of miss Van Dalen’s lovely jenever. And I’m sure my companion would be most grateful for something to wet his tongue as well; twenty years with no food or water…”

“It _would_ be nice to eat again,” Aeon admitted.

Lucian scoffed. “Oh, that’s it?” she said. “Show up, drop all this on our heads, and then fucking off to have a drink, are you?”

Aeon turned his cold eyes on her, and she nearly flinched back, but held her ground. “You’re fortunate I know you learn some manners in the coming years, or I would advise you to know when to hold your tongue.”

“Listen here, you posturing—”

“Trevor,” Leon said, stepping between the two. “Leave it. Aeon and Lucian, I will ask that while you are working together, _try_ to behave like civilised people. I’ll take you to the kitchen,” he added, putting a hand on Aeon’s shoulder and motioning for Saint Germain to join them. “The rest of you can familiarise yourself with what we already know, and then our guests can fill us in on the gaps in our knowledge when you join us.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Saint Germain said, moving to join Leon and Aeon, pausing by Sypha. He took her hands between his and smiled. “By the way, my dear—congratulations once more.” He patted Sypha’s hand and left, leaving her to stare after him. 

“Good to know he hasn’t changed,” Trevor said, folding his arms and glaring after Saint Germain’s retreating back.

Sypha, however, was not looking at Saint Germain. Her hands dropped to her stomach as she looked down, the blood draining from her face.

“Sypha?” Alucard asked, frowning.

“Syph?” Lucian bent down a little to examine her face. “You’re looking a little pale.”

  
Trevor took one look at Sypha, one look at her hands cradling her abdomen, and he blanched as well. “Oh, _shit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saint Germain is back with a friend. We're moving into endgame now, but I don't really know how many more chapters this will be. Probably quite a few more to go, knowing me. 
> 
> But now the real question is... who's the father? :P


	68. Chapter 68

“Did you know?” Lucian asked.

Sypha leaned against a bookshelf, letting her head fall back with a quiet sigh. Trevor and Alucard had let her drag Lucian away to talk, the both of them too much in shock to object to the abrupt departure. 

“I suspected,” Sypha said after a moment. “I’d been trying not to think about it too much since I didn’t have proof before.” She let Lucian take her hands, and Lucian pressed a kiss to the back of Sypha’s knuckles. 

“You mentioned,” Lucian said carefully, “weeks back, that Speakers knew ways to… end pregnancies, if need be?”

Sypha hesitated, her fingers squeezing Lucian’s. “If need be,” she agreed. “The thing is, I… I don’t know that I want to?”

Lucian bit her lip. “I mean, you’ve got time to decide, right?” she said, and Sypha nodded. “This is kind of a big decision, you shouldn’t be expected to make it in a few minutes—”

“Especially not when Trevor and Alucard both are still rather shaken,” Sypha said with a tired laugh, and despite herself, Lucian ducked her head, laughing quietly as well.

“Which one of them do you think—?”

Sypha shrugged. “Odds are good it’s… Trevor’s,” she said, and a hand went to her abdomen. “But we won’t have a way to know until after the little one is born, assuming…” She trailed off.

“Assuming you keep it,” Lucian finished. She wrapped an arm around Sypha, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of the Speaker’s mouth. “You know whatever you decide, all of us will support you, right?”

Sypha leaned into Lucian’s hug with a sigh. “I know.”

* * *

Alucard had insisted they get started going through the books—“No sense in wasting time while they talk.”—but Trevor noticed as they perused the references to Galamoth that Alucard’s eyes were fixated on a point in the distance, somewhere that was definitely _not_ on the page.

“You’re just as scared about this as I am,” Trevor said, and Alucard’s head snapped up to look at him. 

“Yes,” he sighed, glancing back down at the book. 

“Sypha’s mentioned before she knows how to force a miscarriage,” Trevor said, his brow furrowing. “I… mean, it’s ultimately up to her, but you really think any of us are ready to take care of a _baby?_ ”

Alucard looked pale at the prospect. “Well, you certainly aren’t,” he said by way of deflecting the question, and Trevor groaned, running a hand down his face. 

“That’s just the _problem_ . If I’m the—” He faltered at the prospect. “The—the father, and Sypha wants to keep it—the kid deserves a father who isn’t… like _me_.”

Alucard set his book aside and drew Trevor into his arms, and Trevor sighed, letting the dhampir pull him into the embrace. 

“Not much point in worrying about what-ifs, Belmont,” Alucard said, and felt Trevor sigh again. “Not yet, anyway. Until she comes to a decision.”

“We’ll have to talk about it sometime,” Trevor said. “Yeah, it’s her choice, but it’ll still affect all of us.” He paused. “Well, Lucian could just walk away when she wanted, and after that I guess we’ll see if the kid grows fangs—”

Alucard drew back, giving Trevor a critical eye. “You know Lucian would be the last person to walk away, especially if Sypha needed her,” he said. “And somehow, I doubt you would do the same, even if the child did turn out to be… mine.” He paused, like the thought was only just really sinking in. He began to laugh quietly, as did Trevor, and the two of them let go of each other to lean against the wall. Their hands found each other’s, and Trevor gave Alucard’s a squeeze. 

“Not one I’m looking forward to adding to the Belmont history books,” Trevor said, and Alucard snickered.

Trevor sighed, letting his head fall back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Could we even do it?” he said quietly. “Be fathers?” 

Alucard was quiet for a very long moment until Trevor nudged him. “Cat got your tongue?”

Alucard sighed. “I don’t think my own father is exactly a role model of parenthood,” he said dryly, and was somewhat gratified by Trevor’s snort in return. “Though…” He sighed. “Father wasn’t always the world-ending madman you knew him as. Believe it or not, he was actually a good parent.”

“Not,” Trevor said automatically, but he settled in next to Alucard. “...Seriously, I never really asked, but you said ages ago that you had the best childhood out of all of us and I just sort of brushed it off…”

Alucard sighed, glancing away. “He was… attentive,” he said. The memories of his father—of _Dracula_ —were painful to bring up, but he got the sense Trevor was looking for reassurance. “Father was the one who taught me how to speak so many languages, and how to cook—”

“Fuck,” Trevor interrupted. “Seriously? You learned to cook from _Dracula?_ ”

Alucard gave him such a withering look he fell silent. “Father was a man of many interests,” he said quietly. “Science, magic, alchemy. Cooking, painting, embroidery, calligraphy—when you live forever, you tend to shift focus onto more artistic pursuits. When my mother came banging on his door, he’d already been alone for centuries… I suppose, ever since he left Leon to his own devices.”

“What was he like?” Trevor asked quietly. “You know, as a… dad, not as this madman who wanted to kill all of humankind.”

“He was…” Alucard paused, giving Trevor an appraising look. There was no sarcasm here, no ready insistence to jump down his throat and declare vampires were all evil. Just innocent curiosity. It was foreign to Alucard, after months of hearing the same drivel from Trevor, but… he seemed genuine now.

“He was warm,” Alucard said at long last, glancing away. “I learned how to read on his knee, and he always chose the most fascinating stories and myths for me to learn from. He and Mother would invite me into the laboratory to examine their latest experiments, and when I started developing more… vampiric abilities, he would take me out at nights to practice them. He could turn into a wolf, too,” Alucard added, and his gaze became rather distant as he spoke. “And whenever I fell sick—not frequently, mind, but when I did it was rather terrible—he would lay in my bed and let me press up against his warm fur. I know the world will forever remember him as a monster, but before my mother died… he was kind. And he was striving to be a better man.”

Trevor let out a slow breath. “Fuck me,” he said, in a most eloquent response to Alucard’s story. 

Alucard shot him a look. “Care to elaborate?” he said sarcastically, but the challenge unwoke something in Trevor that he hadn’t cared to talk about until then.

“You want me to fucking share?” Trevor said, and slid down to the floor, barely registering that Alucard sat beside him as he did so. “Yeah, my father was… attentive, but he was strict. If we couldn’t master a lesson in a day, couldn’t memorise all of a monster’s weaknesses in a day, it was the belt for us.”

Alucard’s breath caught. “Trevor…”

“He just wanted us to learn,” Trevor said bitterly. “I mean, Belmonts aren’t exactly expected to live long; of course we’d have to learn a shitload of stuff in a short amount of time, but…” He let out a slow breath. “We were _kids_. And now that they’re all dead, I mean—maybe I’m judging him too harshly. He loved us, I—” Trevor’s voice cracked. “I know he loved us. He just wanted us to remember that shit so we wouldn’t die like the rest of his family did.”

Alucard’s thumb ran over the back of Trevor’s knuckles, and Trevor closed his eyes. “I’m not denying what you said,” Alucard said after a long moment. “That your father loved you. I think he did, in his own way, but you were a child. It’s not your fault.”

“Never said it was,” Trevor said. He pulled his hand away, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I don’t know what sort of a father I’d be, just… not a very good one.”

“Why do you think that?”

Trevor snorted. “You’re joking, right? How many times have you pointed out I’m a drunken waste of air?”

Alucard’s voice was soft. “That was before I knew you. Yes, you’re crass, and smelly, and not exactly a shining example of a scholar, but you’re kind, and dedicated to your cause.” He looked over at Trevor, giving him a faint smile. “It’s why I love you. It’s why Sypha and Lucian love you, and why you will be a better father than you think.”

“Even if the kid grows fangs,” Trevor said, and he and Alucard shared a chuckle.

The smile faded from Alucard’s face as he thought. “Even if the child were mine… Leon said his grandchildren aged like humans. I don’t know how I might bear that—you and Sypha are going to age, grow old and die.”

“Hey, let’s not be so hasty,” Trevor said, giving him a crooked grin. “We could just as easily get ourselves killed running off to fight the forgemaster.”

Alucard elbowed him, and Trevor elbowed him back. 

“You’ll have Lucian,” Trevor said. “She’ll have you. And with the castle right near the ruins of the ancestral home, you’ll also be stuck with any of my descendants.” He grinned.

Alucard leaned against Trevor’s shoulder. “Does this mean, after all is said and done, you want to rebuild the house?”

“...Yeah,” Trevor said. “I think I do.”

They heard footsteps and looked up to see Lucian and Sypha approaching, their arms around each other. The men stood as Sypha drew away from Lucian to kiss first Alucard, then Trevor, the second kiss lingering when Trevor pulled Sypha against him.

Lucian drew a little closer to Alucard, biting her lip as she watched the others.

“How’re you doing?” Trevor murmured, and Sypha pulled back just enough to study his face.

“I’m managing,” she said. She gave them a faint grin as she added, “I’d suspected, but until now I didn’t really know for sure, but…”

Alucard nodded. “Whatever you wish to do,” he said softly, “we’ll all support your decision.” He glanced at Trevor and Lucian, who both nodded. 

Sypha ran her thumb over Trevor’s knuckles, giving him a gentle smile as she did so. “I know you will,” she said. “I don’t have to decide just yet; there’s still time. We can worry about the forgemaster and Galamoth first.”

“Assuming that doesn’t take too long,” Trevor said. He reached out tentatively with his hand, but paused before Sypha covered his hand in hers, pulling it to her belly. “Can’t believe there’s an actual kid in there.”

“Technically, at the moment it would be little more than a clump of tissues,” Alucard said, and Lucian bit down on her knuckle to keep from laughing.

“You really know how to romanticise a moment,” Sypha said, reaching out to take his hand as well. 

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” Alucard laced his fingers with Sypha’s and gave her a soft smile.


	69. Chapter 69

Wallachia, 1488 

_Lucian leaned against Alucard as she watched Sonia go through the motions of the drill, Trevor calling encouragement from the sidelines._

_“Do you think we did the right thing?” she said suddenly, and Alucard looked down at her._

_He didn’t need to ask what; the question plagued her for years now, and she still woke in their bed in a cold sweat. Alucard wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Lucian shivered slightly as he drew her against his side._

_“Keep your elbow turned out!” Trevor called, and Sonia’s face furrowed as she concentrated on following her father’s instructions, and her practice whip cracked against the target. “There you go!”_

_Sonia beamed, turning to Lucian and Alucard, seeking their approval._

_“You’re doing amazing, sweet pea!” Lucian called, and Alucard politely clapped in encouragement._

_As Sonia returned to her practice, Alucard’s fingers squeezed Lucian’s own. “I think we did.”_

_At a small table at the edge of the garden, Saint Germain turned back to Sypha with a smile, lifting his teacup. “Her training is going well.”_

_Sypha didn’t return the smile. “Get to the point. You said once everything was over, we would never see you again.”_

_“Oh, my dear Sypha. It’s never over.”_

* * *

Toulouse, 1476 

Saint Germain didn’t experience time the same way others did. Slowly, linearly, far too boring, far too limited. Of course, the constant jumping around made it a bit difficult to keep track of what events happened in what order; maybe that was why history teachers were so insistent on memorising dates.

Wouldn’t _that_ be funny if he was the one to make that suggestion?

He sat now, listening idly as Aeon showed Leon how his datapad worked while they waited for the others. Probably freaking out over the news of Sypha’s first child; they always were the sorts to fret. Saint Germain let his mind wander while he rolled the chronolith between his fingers, something almost giddy building up in his stomach at the realisation Hector would be meeting him for the first time _very_ soon.

Such a polite young man.

Shame about the whole attempting-to-end-the-world thing.

* * *

Wallachia, 1550 

_Lucian and Adrian departed early in the morning, under the cover of night; they’d said their farewells the day before. No sense in lingering and drawing out the pain._

_They stopped to visit Trevor and Sypha, in the Belmont estate’s graveyard._

_“Wish us luck, you mad bastards,” Lucian said softly, and Adrian let out a quiet snort, wrapping an arm around him before lacing their fingers together. They disappeared into the night, leaving the hold and the castle to Sonia and Gavril’s children._

_They’d be back._

_Eventually._

_They barely made it to the road when they stopped, finding Saint Germain waiting for them._

_“What is it_ now? _” Lucian demanded._

_Saint Germain held up the chronolith, rolling it between his fingers. “We’ve found something you’re going to want to see.”_

* * *

Toulouse, 1476 

And not long after that, they would be sitting around this table together, six relics, five knights, discussing the next ten thousand years while he sipped some of that delightful pomace brandy they made. 

He took a sip of his own now—Mateo’s, he thought—studying Leon as the vampire experimented with the device. 

“What did I just do?” Leon asked, not quite in alarm but definitely concern when he accidentally closed out of the book. Aeon wordlessly reached over to bring it back up, and Leon’s crimson eyes shone, deliberately closing it and scrolling through the datapad to see what else it had to offer.

  
  


Funny how such a mundane piece of equipment could be so magical to one who had never seen anything like it before.

Almost like that time with the pyramids. Now _that_ had been a fun month.

* * *

Titan, 7141 

_“How’s he doing?”_

_Aeon sank gracefully onto his chair, flicking away an imaginary speck of dust. “The same as the last time you asked. I fail to see why you concern yourself with him, the answer will never change.”_

_Luka groaned and dragged a hand over his face. “I just worry.”_

_Adrian gave his metal fingers a squeeze; Luka gave him a tight smile before he leaned forward. “What news do you bring?”_

_Aeon fixed Saint Germain with a meaningful look as he reached into his waistcoat, which was as flawlessly tailored to fit him as ever despite the thick holodisc he produced from God-knows-where._ _  
  
_

_Saint Germain’s gaze zeroed in on it. “Oh, no.”_

_“Oh, yes,” Aeon said, and activated the disc to set a map of the galaxy spiralling to fill the room._

* * *

Toulouse, 1476 

Saint Germain rolled the chronolith over his fingers in thought, startling out of his reverie when Aeon lightly touched a finger to his wrist. He looked up, his gaze meeting the pale blue eyes of one Hector Galanis. 

Funny—he’d met the man countless times over the ages, but always forgot what colour his eyes were.

“Hector,” Saint Germain said, gesturing to an empty seat. “Come, join us.”

Hector hesitated, but then Cezar barked by his feet, trotting over to sniff at Saint Germain’s shoes before sitting on his haunches, tail wagging and tongue lolling out.

No matter how many times he _did_ meet Hector, the ones where he was accompanied by that blasted dog were always a bit of a shock to him.

Still, this seemed to encourage Hector to edge a little closer, watching the newcomers warily. “How do you know who I am?” he said.

Saint Germain was fully prepared to launch into his favourite grandiose and roundabout explanation when Aeon got there first. “We are time travellers trying to prevent the destruction of reality as we know it. Please, sit.”

Saint Germain bit back a sigh of annoyance and instead gestured to the seat beside him.

Hector blinked, and sat. “Time… travellers?” he said, stooping to pick up Cezar to cradle the dog on his lap.

“Slipping from one moment in time as easily as a stone falls into a river,” Saint Germain said, imperiously combing his fingers through his beard. “We’ve seen countless worlds and times—”

“Right now we’re trying to stop an archdemon from taking over as Dark Lord and destroying the world, and we think you might be the key,” Aeon said, cutting him off, and Saint Germain bristled briefly before opting to take another sip of brandy.

Hector slowly closed his eyes in disbelief, and when he opened them again, along with his mouth to speak, he closed it when he heard the voices of the Belmont and the Speaker, most likely accompanied by the other two.

His suspicions were proven correct when the four stopped on the stairs just beyond the kitchen, eyeing Hector warily—except for Lucian, who gave him a small wave and a suspicious glance at Saint Germain. That would be a fun exercise in trying to keep the priest's pronouns straight.

Saint Germain lifted his glass in a cheerful toast. “Now that you’re all done having your little existential drama over babies—let’s discuss saving the world.”


	70. Chapter 70

Trevor insisted on pouring out some of Roisin’s cuirm before they began their discussion, with a grunt of “I try not to discuss business with a clear head.”

“Do you ever try to discuss _anything_ with a clear head?” Alucard muttered, and Trevor shot him a glare that could melt stone were he not already pouring his first mugful.

Sypha put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, looking between Saint Germain and Aeon with a frown. “So,” she said. “Galamoth. How long have the two of you been working against him? And are there more of you?”

Aeon poured himself a glass of resinated wine, swirling its contents before taking a delicate sip. “There are, indeed, more of us,” he said. “Though the undying are more of a loose coalition rather than an organised group. We have the same goal, though.”

“That being?” Trevor said impatiently.

“The continued existence of the known universe, for a start.”

Saint Germain steepled his fingers. “We’ve been travelling backwards. Trying to piece together the events leading up to the sealing of Galamoth—”

“But one of you from the future can’t just come back and tell us,” Lucian said slowly.

“Exactly,” Aeon said. “Time is a delicate thing, and we have a very vested interest in making sure that history plays out as it should, considering Galamoth is doing his utmost best to disrupt it. But something has been closing portals off to us, one by one, and by and large it’s the presence of the Brotherhood here that has been keeping the portal open in the crypt.” He swiped through his datapad, his almost unnaturally smooth features creasing in a frown. “It’s becoming more and more difficult to travel to different points in time, and we’re not wholly sure why.”

Lucian could have sworn she saw Saint Germain’s eyes flicker to his companion for the briefest of moments, but then it was gone.

“Hang on,” Trevor said. “If the Corridor acts as a passage _to_ all these different points—”

“Once a portal is sealed, it’s sealed for good,” Aeon said. “But once one is opened, it can become increasingly more difficult to close it—and if this little band of knights keeps slipping in and out of the Corridor—”

“Point taken,” Leon said, rubbing his temples. “I’ve already given orders to not use the Corridor except in the event of an absolute emergency.”

“Which seems about as much as we can ask for, really,” Saint Germain chimed in, nudging Aeon under the table when the other man gave him a dirty look. “Their abilities are far too valuable to ignore entirely, but when every usage of the Corridor without a portal risks opening a wider rift—”

“It means more chances for this Galamoth to slip through,” Alucard said.

Lucian glanced at Hector, who looked _very_ confused but was listening intently, before she looked back to Saint Germain. “So hang on,” she said. “The Infinite Corridor… if it’s a, a portal through time and space, does that mean Galamoth has been trapped outside of time? So how does that affect him in the real world?”

Saint Germain steepled his fingers. “I’m so very glad you asked. He was ripped from all points in time and trapped in the Infinite Corridor, which, I might add, _you_ made specifically to keep him there.”

Lucian stared. “I—I’m sorry, _what?_ ”

“Very clever of you, by the way, and I would normally be very interested to know how you managed it, but you already described the process in your book, and once over a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity—”

“Am I allowed to see it?” Lucian demanded.

“Absolutely not,” Aeon said, and Trevor groaned into his drink. Aeon shot his compatriot a dirty glare. “The things we try to ensure come to pass, we know the people we aid wouldn’t have the courage to do what is necessary for the sake of the survival of mankind were they to know the future. So we ease history along, give nudges and hints, but to blatantly say the outcome of what is to happen could and has proven to be catastrophic. Humans are contrary, fickle creatures, and to know the future is to try to defy it.”

“But we don’t want to defy it,” Alucard said, his voice low. “Not if whatever it is we end up doing is able to save the world. That’s how we all came together, and what I suspect we will continue working for, for the rest of our lives. Am I wrong?”

“Oh, not at all,” Saint Germain said. “But you forget, I’ve known the lot of you for a lot longer than you know yourselves, and you’re all so very obstinate.”

Sypha slammed her hands on the table. “Are you trying to be as obtuse as possible or is that just how you operate?”

And here, Hector finally spoke up. “I think he’s scared,” he said, and most of the table turned to him, where he sat at the end, holding Cezar in his lap and stroking the pug’s head, his brow furrowed with worry. “I think he’s seen different outcomes of this upcoming battle and knows what it means for the world, if it doesn’t go according to plan. Am I wrong?”

Saint Germain was quiet.

After a long moment, Aeon sighed and nodded. “The future hinges on the pair of you,” he said, inclining his head. “Lucian… and Hector.”

“But why them?” Trevor demanded. “Why them and not anyone else?”

“Because they will be where they need to be, when the time is right,” Aeon said, shrugging. 

“Why do you care?” Lucian said quietly to Hector. “You never did before.”

Hector looked down at the pug in his lap and didn’t speak for a long moment. “Might we speak alone?” he asked, and Lucian glanced at her friends, her lovers, before Alucard inclined his head. 

She stood, as did Hector, and the pair of them exited the room together, walking in silence up the stairs and along the corridor. Lucian hooked her thumbs through her waist sash, waiting for Hector to speak.

It was a long moment before he did. They made their way out to the cloister garden, so meticulously attended by Lorenzo, where the blooms burst bright and full from the plants and the fountain bubbled cheerfully. The pair of them sat on its edge, and Cezar leapt from Hector’s arms to splash in the water, his tongue lolling out.

Lucian folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for Hector to speak, though he remained silent, his head bowed in contemplation.

That was fine. She could wait. 

She thought she recognised the face—one of contrition, one of wrestling with the knowledge of what they had done. She’d seen it plenty of times before, when receiving the people of Gresit for the sacrament of reconciliation. That little, niggling feeling in the back of one’s brain, knowing what you had done was wrong and not being able to come to terms with it.

But she needed to hear it from him, and he needed to say it for himself, and so she waited.

It was a good three minutes they sat together, the only sound to break the silence the splashing of the fountain. 

And, at long last, Hector spoke. 

“You’ve been so certain of humanity’s goodness,” he said softly. “Even after everything you’ve seen, after everything the people who have hurt you have done. How?”

One of Lucian’s hans closed loosely around the opposite wrist, cradling the brand from the cursed bindings. “I… to be honest? I don’t know,” she said. “The men who raised me were cruel, the people I tried to help would have seen me hang were they to know I wasn’t a man. And the people like you and your colleague killed my family,” she added, an edge sharpening her voice, and Hector glanced away. “Some days I do wake up and wonder what I’m even still fighting for, why I’m still trying to save everyone.”  
  


She sighed and looked down at her hands, her fingers curling into loose fists. “I still have nightmares about when I died. Remembering what it felt like to be stabbed, over and over and over, screaming for mercy that never came. And wondering what it was like for my Mama and brother who burned in their beds, who never got a second chance like I did.”

“I’m sorry,” Hector said, and Lucian looked over at him. “Truly, I am. I know it won’t bring them back, but were I to do anything differently now, I would.”

Lucian sighed, her chin dropping, her hair falling over her eyes. “I think that’s all I can really ask,” she said, her voice low. “And they would be happy to know they didn’t die for nothing, or at least not for the sake of a madman who lost his wife and in his grief decided everyone else should suffer as he did.” She looked up at Hector. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why do you care now?”

Hector turned away, looking at the pug splashing in the fountain. “Because you and the others have finally shown me humans are capable of goodness,” he said. “That it’s not just cruelty and selfishness out there—you sacrificed yourself to save me from that manticore, and even if you did come back, I know that wasn’t without great pain on your own part.”

Lucian chuckled, more than a little ruefully. “I didn’t mean to show up where I did,” she said. “Lucky I did save you from the quills, but believe me, I wouldn’t have taken the hit if I could avoid it.”

“Still.” Hector folded his arms, his gaze distant. “I would be dead several times over were it not for your good heart. Despite everything…” He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Despite everything, you were still kind.”

“I…” Lucian bit her lip and ducked her head, hissing through her teeth. _Fft-fft-fft._ “Honestly, when we went to Styria, I was ready to kill you. I _wanted_ revenge. I _wanted_ my family to have justice. But what justice was there in killing you when you were helpless? And now… what justice is there in killing you when you’re willing to change?”

Hector was quiet, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve while he considered the question. “I suppose there is none, though admittedly, I _am_ biased.”

Lucian looked up at him. “Hector, I… I don’t know that we’ll ever be friends. But I like to think people can change, and I do think you have. Don’t prove me wrong on this, alright? Be better than you were. Be what you wanted from humanity.”

Hector gave her a small smile. “I will.”

* * *

Lucian sat in the bell tower, her pipe clamped in her teeth as she inhaled deeply. She let it go in a puff, looking out over the torchlights of Toulouse, a foot kicking aimlessly as she let it dangle over the edge of the tower.

She heard Sypha climbing the stairs, but didn’t turn her head, opting to remain looking out over the city.

“Saint Germain and Aeon are gone,” Sypha said, sitting next to her. “Headed into the portal for whatever adventures await them.”

“Good for them,” Lucian said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“We’ll probably not be seeing them for a few years yet,” Sypha said, scooting a little closer.

“Mph.” Lucian took another drag on her pipe and puffed out a circle of smoke. “I’m so done with being told we have to do such-and-such for the sake of the future. We’re just trying our damn best and apparently it’s not good enough?”

“It _is_ good enough.” Sypha put an arm around her shoulders. “But you’re still absolutely allowed to be mad at them. God knows I am,” she added, and Lucian snorted. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

“Just the upcoming travelling to find Isaac,” Lucian said, and sighed. “I like it here. I don’t want to leave.”

“Of course you like it,” Sypha said, and kissed her cheek. “You’ve found your people, it’s no wonder you don’t want to leave.”

“They’re not my people,” Lucian said automatically. “You are. You and Trevor and Alucard.”

Sypha chuckled, her hand dipping lower to play with Lucian’s collarbone. “I am very glad to hear that.”

Lucian’s breath hitched. “Uh… Sypha?”

“Sypha what?” She grinned. “As far as I can see, we’re alone up here, just you, me, and the night sky…”

“ _Oh._ ” Lucian swallowed. “Uh, I mean… yes?” 

Sypha’s hands found Lucian’s sash and began undoing the knot. “I’m apparently pregnant and very willing to fuck, and I know both the boys will be too scared to try. Are you?”

“Oh, God, no,” Lucian said, and chucked her pipe aside, wrapping her arms around Sypha’s neck, drawing her down for a kiss.

Sypha’s hands finished unfastening Lucian’s sash and tossed it aside, pushing her down for a kiss. Lucian’s eyes went huge when Sypha grabbed her wrists, but the magician let go the instant she started to struggle, bringing her hands up to caress Lucian’s face instead. 

“Sorry,” Sypha murmured, “too used to Trevor.”

Lucian chuckled nervously, gently stroking Sypha’s cheek. “Aren’t we both?” she said, and gasped when Sypha instead opted to start unlancing the front of her shirt.

Sypha looked up at her and grinned. “Trevor isn’t nearly so compliant as you,” she said, and pulled the neck of Lucian’s shirt to the side to suckle kisses along her collarbone. “You, on the other hand, are very malleable. And so very willing to take my fingers,” she said, stroking along Lucian’s stomach and dipping beneath her waistband. 

Lucian gasped, arching her back, and Sypha laughed, letting her hand rest on Lucian’s hip. “You are _very_ greedy,” Sypha said, and Lucian whined quietly. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“ _Sypha,_ ” Lucian groaned. “Stop playing around and just fuck me, would you?”

Sypha’s wicked smile deepened. “Give me time,” she said, and Lucian squirmed as Sypha proceeded to leave a trail of kisses along her neck, drawing Lucian’s shirt up to suckle hickies onto her stomach, down the faint trail of hair that lead below Lucian’s waistline as Sypha slowly drew her breeches down to find Lucian was already wet. 

“You’re all ready for me?” Sypha said, lifting her head, and when Lucian made a small noise of assessment, Sypha caught her mouth in a kiss, her hand running over Lucian’s chest and down to the curly hair over her mound, fingers trailing over her folds. 

Lucian groaned into Sypha’s mouth, their tongues meeting in a teasing dance. Lucian reached up, pulling Sypha’s robes over her head, and Sypha lifted her arms accordingly. After a moment of fumbling fingers, the both were shirtless, and Lucian leaned up to catch one of Sypha’s nipples in her mouth, sucking gently. Her tongue laved at the nipple, her hands roaming Sypha’s sides, and she brought a hand up to tweak the Speaker’s other breast, kneading it, teasing it, massaging it gently before pinching the nipple and rolling it between her fingers to soft, contented sighs. 

Lucian sighed when Sypha reached down her trousers to thumb her clit, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. She bit down a little more on Sypha’s breast, suckling harder, and Sypha groaned as she worked Lucian with her fingers, letting her partner’s tongue tease her nipple and work her undone.

“Wait,” Lucian gasped, and Sypha paused before Lucian was removing the last of the Speaker’s clothes, leaving Sypha entirely bare as Lucian lowered herself between Sypha’s legs, entrenching herself there as she placed her mouth firmly on Sypha’s clit. She gripped the Speaker’s hips, knuckles white as she held Sypha in place and proceeded to eat her out, her tongue inexperienced but laving around Sypha’s clit and folds and dipping into her like she had years of practice.

“You taste amazing,” Lucian murmured, and Sypha grabbed hold of her hair, guiding her to the most pleasurable spots, trusting Lucian would be able to figure it out.

She did, and Sypha bit down on her finger to suppress a cry as her legs spasmed and her toes curled, unable to fight her orgasm even as she quivered under Lucian’s mouth. When Lucian lifted her head, chin glistening from Sypha’s juices, Sypha couldn’t resist, and grabbed Lucian by the hair, drawing her in for a kiss.

Their teeth knocked, their tongues clashed, the two of them together a mess of undiluted lust. But Lucian was hers, and Sypha was hers, and they had nothing between the two of them that could compare. 

She let her mouth cover Sypha, her tongue teasing, filling Sypha, kissing her thoroughly before Sypha pushed Lucian down and raked her breeches the rest of the way off, leaving the priest exposed to her.

Sypha ducked her head, laving Lucian’s clit, mouthing her thoroughly, and knowing that by showing Lucian exactly what _she_ wanted, maybe this would inspire such confidence in her own partner.

Lucian’s fingers curled in Sypha’s hair, tugging her up to meet in a kiss, the pair of them murmuring quietly as they tried to stifle the noise. Lucian groaned into Sypha’s kiss and they gripped each other tightly, Lucian grabbing Sypha’s hand as she tried to show her partner what she wanted.

Her fingers were demanding, insistent, stroking herself in ways Sypha had wondered were too filthy to even discuss.

“Oh… God, yes, just like that,” Lucian groaned, and Sypha obliged. Her fingers worked harder, faster, before Lucian was bucking her hips into Sypha’s hand, and then before she knew it, harder and faster, harder and faster, harder and faster and harder and harder and faster and—

Sypha squeaked when Lucian came on her hand, the priest’s hips quivering on Sypha’s fingers, and the both of them staring at each other rather dumbfoundedly. 

“I love you,” Lucian murmured, and Sypha sat up, grabbing her by the hair to draw her down into a kiss.

“That,” Sypha murmured, “that was… I love you, too.”

And Lucian could only mumble in agreement, and kiss Sypha senseless, her fingers slick and the both of them cuddled together in the shame that was loving another woman.

But then again, if the pair of them were sinful and deviant as they were, what more harm could become of them? 

After all, they loved each other, and what merciful and benevolent god could fault such a thing?


	71. Chapter 71

When they woke up, the cathedral was burning.

Trevor was the first one to smell smoke, and leapt out of bed with a yell, startling the others awake. “ _Fire!_ ” Trevor yelled, visibly panicking as he grabbed the Morning Star, waving the others to come to the door.

“This isn’t like Lindenf—?” Lucian asked as she hurried to the door, grabbing her collapsed spear from the bedside table and swinging her cloak around her neck as she ran.

“No,” Sypha said, her face dark as Alucard tossed his coat over her shoulders, “if it was, we would be dead already.”

Alucard called his sword to his hand, and the four of them ran down the corridor in their nightclothes, banging on the doors of the other knights as they went. 

“FIRE!” Trevor bellowed, his voice echoing in the halls, and sleepy, wide-eyed knights began emerging from their rooms in their pyjamas and holding their weapons.

“Night creatures,” Mateo said, and with another jolt of adrenaline, Lucian realised that in her terror, she’d failed to recognise the overwhelming _evil_ that surrounded the cathedral.

“We’re under attack,” Roisin called, propping her axe on her shoulder. “No time for full armour; everyone to the armoury, hauberks and helmets only! I’ll go get Leon!” 

The knights took off running, but Maud stayed; Roisin leaned up on tiptoes, drawing her down for a kiss, and then Maud was running after the others, Roisin sprinting in the direction of the crypts.

“You lot get outside, but be careful!” she yelled over her shoulder, and Trevor nodded, waving them to follow.

“Fighting the Dark Lord in our nightclothes,” Alucard said dryly as they ran to the entrance. “Just what I wanted to do today.”

They burst through the front doors, and Trevor yelled a warning when a firedrake whirled, belching flames at them; Sypha slammed her hands together, and the flames parted around them, heat washing over them and ruffling their hair. With a grunt, Sypha lifted her arms, and the flames redirected themselves at the beast in full force, incinerating it on the spot. 

It exploded, the shockwave nearly knocking Lucian off her feet before Alucard caught her by the arm. 

“Scatter!” Trevor yelled, and they did, to the shrieks of night creatures.

Lucian expanded her spear, ducking under the thick, sinewy tail of a lizardlike demon with too many teeth for its mouth; she lunged, stabbing it in the side—and her spear lodged, the night creature turning and ripping it from her hands as it did so. It bore down on her, sizzling green acid dripping from its maw, and Lucian lifted her hands—

A massive warhammer swung out of nowhere and connected with the demon’s jaw, tearing the lower half of its face off in a wave of acid and blood, and Hector ducked to the side under the hazardous spray, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Alright?” he called. 

“Yeah, thank y—” Lucian threw up her hands as light exploded out from her, vaporising the gorgons that leapt at Hector’s back. “Thank you!”

Hector gave her a curt nod, and he disappeared into the fray. Lucian couldn’t see where Cezar had gotten off to, but she figured Hector had ordered the pug to safety when the attack started. 

She ran to rip her spear from the dead night creature’s corpse and whirled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising when she realised that she could _feel_ the other forgemaster, stepping through that blasted mirror of his—

_Behind the cathedral._

“Guys!” Lucian yelled, but her voice was swallowed by the din of battle. She danced on the spot for a moment, her heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears, and then she made her decision.

If she died, then at least she would die trying to do what was right.

Lucian took off running, her bare feet slapping over the grass. She ignored the small rocks and sticks that dug into her soles, drawing blood moments before healing over. 

She rounded the cathedral, and her blood ran cold; Isaac stood amidst a heap of the corpses of his demons, shrouded in white and walking down to meet them, down among the carnage like he was unaffected by the deaths that paved the ground beneath his feet. 

He was like silence, like slaughter. The blade in his hand buzzed softly, drowning out all attempts to stifle him. 

Roisin ran to meet him, her axe whirling in an arc of death.

She’d never found the time to change into her armour.

Isaac ducked under Roisin’s swing and impaled her in the chest, stabbing her beneath her ribs, and Roisin gasped, coughing up blood over Isaac’s wrist as she went limp.

And Roisin’s body exploded, blood and flesh flying out in a spray of viscera that coated everyone nearby, left them splattered with the remains of the knight’s body.

Lucian screamed.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. 

Isaac withdrew his blade and pulled away from the shattered corpse, even as the rest of the knights began descending on him.

Lucian felt her vision go white.

“Wait—!” Alucard bellowed, trying in a last-ditch effort to draw her back, his fingers snatching at her collar to no avail.

She sprinted forward with a yell that rent her voice, her spear collapsed and hanging limply at her side, and at the same time she snatched hold of Isaac’s collar, Hector was there, too, his voice raised in anguish as he grabbed Lucian’s arm, trying to pull her away—

And their world dissolved in a swirl of colour.


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's about to get weird(er).

They landed in a heap on seemingly nothing, their surroundings a sickening, flashing swirl of colours that were painful to look at. Lucian scrambled away with eyes wide as Isaac stared down Hector.

A brief moment passed between them that felt like a lifetime.

“ _You._ ” Isaac lunged at Hector, his knife flashing, when a hand caught his wrist.

It was Hector.

But not the Hector they’d landed in the Infinite Corridor with. This one looked the same—same hair, same bright blue eyes. But he was wearing different clothes, strange clothes made from a fabric unlike anything they had ever seen—and there was a hardness to his stare that hadn’t been there before.

Isaac got the chilling sense he was staring back at something _ancient_.

The other Hector pushed Isaac back, giving a small nod to the Hector they’d arrived with.

Lucian slowly got to her feet, looking between the three warily. “Okay. What the _fuck_ is going on?”

The other Hector turned to look at her. “I’ll explain everything later,” he said, and held up a gleaming stone shot through with colours that blended in with their surroundings—

_A chronolith._

“Where did you—I—we? get that?” Hector asked, his eyes widening. “Are you even me?”

“Unfortunately.” The other Hector smiled wanly. “But like I said, I’ll tell you later. You have someone to meet.”

“ _Who?_ ” Isaac bit out, reversing his grip on his knife. “Start talking, _traitor_ , or you will taste my steel shoved down your throat—”

The other Hector gestured with the chronolith, and a portal opened; Lucian took a step back, heart in her mouth as a hot wind whipped through the Infinite Corridor, blowing their clothes around them. 

“That’s Hell,” Lucian whispered.

Hector side-eyed his other self. “You want us to go to Hell?”

Lucian could only think of one person they could possibly be expected to meet. “It’s Dracula, isn’t it,” she said, and Isaac glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, stiffening at the mention of his lord’s name.

The other Hector inclined his head.

“No,” Isaac said. “Why should I believe anything you have to say to me?”

“...Isaac, right?” Lucian said quietly, and Isaac frowned, turning to look at her. “I’ve seen him there. He’s telling the truth—”

Isaac laughed mirthlessly, giving both Hectors a dark glare. “You betrayed Dracula,” Isaac said, his voice edged with venom, and he pointed his knife at Lucian. “And _you!_ You _killed_ him. I remember you, from the castle.”

Lucian bristled, holding up her hands. “And _you_ killed my friend,” she spat. “What were you hoping to accomplish, attacking us? _Why?_ Why were you even aligned with Dracula in the first place? What the _f—?!_ ”

Hector put a hand on her arm and pointed, and Lucian’s mouth clamped shut, her and Isaac turning to follow Hector’s finger.

“Isaac. Hector.”

They turned, and Lucian nearly shrieked before she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Dracula approached them, tall, menacing, practically gliding over the rocky ground with each step he took. Lisa was on his arm, her smile small but warm, and the pair of them stopped before the portal. Waiting.

Hector glanced warily at his other self, who inclined his head. 

Isaac was the first one to cross, and after a moment, Lucian and Hector stepped through as well. The portal slammed shut behind them, and Lucian whirled, realising they were now trapped.

In Hell.

With Dracula.

She turned back warily to face the vampire, but Lisa broke away from her husband to pull Lucian into a hug even as Lucian froze, her eyes going wide. Dracula stopped before his forgemasters, studying them both for a moment, before holding his hands out to them.

“My generals,” he said, his voice soft. “It is good to see you again.”

Isaac was the first one to find his voice. “My lord,” he said, bowing. “I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.”

“Who are we to decide if these are happy or not?” Dracula said. “I have the privilege of seeing my friends again. Yes,” he said, when Isaac bristled, “the both of you are my friends. Perhaps I was too harsh in my judgement of humanity, of the world. But I bear no resentment,” he added, turning to Hector. “I’m just glad to know the both of you are doing well.”

Lisa let go of Lucian and smoothed her hair back, gripping her face between her hands. “It’s good to see you,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your friend.”

Lucian’s eyes stung, and she swallowed. “Is she here?” she managed, and Lisa shook her head.

“She’s moved on,” Lisa said. “On to Heaven.”

“Then… what are you doing here, Lady Țepeș?” Hector asked. “If you’ll forgive the impertinence, but I can’t imagine you were truly sent to Hell just for practicing medicine?”

Lisa smiled and shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort,” she said. “Hell is… something of a misnomer, it seems? A waiting place. Until we can move on to the next life and be reborn.” She laughed quietly. “It’s funny, having all the memories of my past lives back.” She gave her husband a reproachful look, and he at least had the grace to look sheepish.

It was quite possibly the strangest thing Lucian had ever seen. Dracula, not an enraged monster. Just a man being scolded silently by his wife… for doing monstrous things.

“My wife has been ready to move on for some time yet,” Dracula said, his crimson eyes intense as he addressed Hector and Isaac. “I needed some more time, though—waiting for the both of you, like she waited for me.”

Isaac frowned. “How did you know we would be coming?”

Dracula turned his gaze on Lucian, who flinched. “Thanks to her.”

Lucian swallowed when she realised everyone was now looking at her. “Uh—um, I never—I didn’t—” She felt the tic coming on and tried to fight it back, only for it to burst from her. _Fft-fft-fft-fft-fft-fft—_

Isaac scoffed. “She is a stuttering child.”

“And has done more for humans than you could imagine, Isaac.”

Isaac’s jaw set. “You said so yourself, humans only scheme and betray,” he said, his voice low. “You were the only person in the world to help me, Master Dracula, and not even human himself.”

“What is a man?” Dracula said. “Whatever it was that I had become after Lisa died—I was nothing more than a monster. I see it now.”

“No!” Isaac shook his head vehemently. “You wanted to create a pure world, a clean world, free from sin and suffering—”

“Because everyone would be dead.” Dracula turned to his wife when she put a hand in his, dwarfed in his massive grasp, and he squeezed gently. “Lisa truly is the best of humanity, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be better. If they had someone to teach them.”

Isaac thought back to the Captain. 

_“Maybe we do all deserve to die. But maybe we could be better, too. If you kill us all, you end human cruelty, yes, but you end human kindness, too. No more jokes. No more gifts. No more surprises. Why would a man with all your fantastic knowledge not use it to teach people how to be kind?”_

“Have you a way to observe the living on Earth?” Isaac asked dryly.

Lisa laughed. “I’m afraid not. But you have told us your stories, about what happened before this moment.”

“I don’t seem to recall telling you anything.”

“It’s the Infinite Corridor, isn’t it?” Lucian said slowly, and Lisa smiled, tapping her nose. “So what has already come to pass for you hasn’t for us yet.”

“Got it in one. I can see why my son likes you so much,” Lisa said, and Lucian’s cheeks went a blotchy red. 

“So that means he sees you again?” she asked.

“When he’s ready to.” Lisa smiled. “Take care of him for us until then, please?”

Lucian’s eyes stung and her throat felt tight. Wordlessly, she nodded.

Hector stiffened when Dracula laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“You were always too trusting for your own good,” Dracula said. “I don’t blame you for being taken in by Carmilla’s lies.”

“Even though he proved himself to be no better than any other human?” Isaac demanded, and when Dracula arched an eyebrow at him, added, “Sir.”

“My wife’s dying words were a plea to be better than humanity,” Dracula said. “Isaac. These are my parting words to you. Don’t let your hatred consume you like it did me. Don’t just be better than them. Be better than _me._ ”

Isaac hesitated for the first time being given an order by his lord and friend. But he bowed. “As you wish, Master Dracula. You have my word.”

“You are the Dark Lord now, Isaac,” Dracula said, giving him a small smile and putting his other hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You bow to no one.”

“My love,” Lisa said, “it’s time.”

Dracula let his hands fall, and Lisa took his arm. 

There was no flash of light, no ascension, no fading slowly away. They were there one moment and gone the next, and Lucian blinked, rubbing tears from her eyes.

A portal opened behind them: the other Hector, waiting with arms crossed and a smile.

They left Hell, and the portal closed, leaving behind a broken, jagged crack in the Corridor; Isaac turned to Lucian.

“When we return, I will call off my night creatures,” he said grudgingly. 

Hector cleared his throat. “Perhaps it would be better if you returned to where you were before launching your attack,” he said. “I doubt any of them would take kindly to seeing you after you killed Roisin.”

Isaac pursed his lips; Lucian bowed her head, tears falling.

This would be twice now she failed to lift a hand against a forgemaster, and she felt _numb_. Raw. Roisin’s death kept replaying in her mind, while she was here, planning to let the knight’s killer go.

“I will return to my castle,” Isaac decided.

“And what then?” Lucian asked, her voice thick. “Did Dracula’s words mean anything to you, or did you just say you would—”

Isaac’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Lucian took a step back. “I am a man of my word,” he said. “Unlike a certain priest, turning her back on her vows.”

A dozen angry retorts sprang to mind, but Lucian knew all they would serve to do was escalate an already-tense situation. So she just gave a jerky nod of her head. 

“Then let your word mean something,” she said. “Don’t make me regret letting you go. Not after everything you’ve done.”

Isaac laughed as the other Hector opened a portal, back to Isaac’s fortress, where untold numbers of night creatures milled. “I would like to see you try.”

Lucian felt sick to her stomach. “All those people,” she said, “did you not think that to them, you were the cruel one?”

Isaac gave her a humourless smile. “I was doing them a mercy,” he said, and stepped through, leaving Lucian wondering if she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.

The portal closed, leaving behind a similar scar, and the other Hector gestured, frowning to himself as the portal slowly, painstakingly, sealed itself shut. 

“Did… did you just close that for good?” Lucian asked tentatively, and he nodded, giving her a tired smile. 

“Hopefully, that will be the last.”

The two Hectors looked at each other.

“You know what’s happened,” the second said. “What you’ll have to do.”

Hector nodded slowly. “I… think so.”

“Saint Germain said the future hinged on us,” Lucian said, gesturing to herself and Hector.

The other Hector sighed heavily at the mention of Saint Germain. “He always was a dramatic bastard,” he said. 

“Talking about people behind their backs? _Rude_. Didn’t anyone teach you any manners as a child?”

They turned to see Saint Germain standing in another portal wearing a different but equally flamboyant outfit—and he wasn’t alone.

Alucard and Lucian stood behind him, but they were different, dressed in similar clothes to the second Hector, the same weariness of _age_ in their eyes. Lucian seemed to have settled into the face she would wear for the rest of her life, and her hair was longer, shaved on one side; she grinned, waving at herself with an arm made of metal while Alucard smiled wistfully. By her heels sat Cezar, looking much the same as always, and he barked happily when he saw his master, running forward and leaping into the second Hector’s arms.

“I think you know what has to happen next, don’t you?” Saint Germain said, and like he was tossing a coin, flicked his chronolith into Hector’s hands. The forgemaster caught it easily, staring down at it with a heavy heart.

“I do,” Hector said softly. 

“Take care of that. My companion is going to get trapped in the bloody Library for a few good decades and he was very cross when he found out why I lost mine.” Saint Germain extended his hand to the other Hector, who shifted the pug in his grasp and let himself be pulled through. The other Lucian embraced him warmly, looking over his shoulder to give Hector an encouraging smile.

Hector raised the chronolith and sealed the portal shut like he'd seen himself do, and with a grunt of effort, mended the scar.

Lucian’s mouth was dry. “You’re staying here.”

Hector looked down at the stone in his hand, shimmering innocently. “Yes,” he said softly. “You heard Aeon, back in the cathedral. Something has been closing portals off. And they obviously knew that _something_ was me.”

“But…” Lucian shook her head. “But—who knows how long you’ll _be_ here? It looked like they—I—came for you _thousands_ of years in the future.”

Hector smiled humourlessly. “And I still hadn’t aged a day. This is the Infinite Corridor, after all… and I suppose this is my chance to make amends for what I did, for what I tried to do.”

Lucian gave him a long look. “You’ve changed, Hector,” she said softly. “For what it’s worth, I—” Her voice caught. “I forgive you.”

She held out her hand, and they clasped wrists.

“Get me out of here someday,” Hector said, and Lucian managed to laugh through her tears. “And bring me some clothes, will you? I’ll hardly make a fearsome jailer of a demon in my nightshirt.”

“You’ve got it.” Lucian gave him a watery smile. “I’ll take care of Cezar for you, I promise.”

“I know you will.” Hector raised the chronolith and a portal opened to the crypt of the cathedral; Lucian looked at him, swallowing, and gave him a small nod.

She stepped through, and when she turned to look back, the portal was gone, not even a hint of colour to indicate it had ever been there.

In a daze, she wandered out of Leon’s room, from the crypt, through the smoking halls that seemed strangely cool for a burning building. She made it out onto the front lawn, and everyone gathered there turned to look at her.

The night was quiet. The ground was damp with cold water, and dimly Lucian realised Sypha must have used her magic to put out the fire. For as far as her senses could reach, the only creatures of darkness nearby were Leon and Alucard. Isaac had been true to his word.

Exhaustion overcame her and she fell to her knees, in shock from everything that had transpired.

“Lucian!”

Pounding footsteps rang in her ears, a babble of voices all running together in her mind.

“They’re gone,” she managed to say, stumbling over the words. “They’re gone. They’re gone. They’re gone.”


	73. Chapter 73

Lucian didn’t attend Roisin’s funeral.

She barely ate, barely slept, and communicated with nods and shakes of her head; her thoughts were consumed with the knowledge that Hector was trapped in the Infinite Corridor and she’d let Roisin’s killer walk free. 

The others tried asking her what had happened. 

All Lucian could do was curl up on her bed, staring numbly at the wall, Cezar tucked sadly under her chin. 

“It was a lovely service,” Sypha said gently as she got Lucian to sit up so she could change the priest’s bandages. “Leon conducted it. Maud’s holding up well, all things considered, but she’s quieter than normal. They’d been married nearly a century and a half… I suppose when you love someone that much, and then they’re taken from you like that, it takes time to process the loss.”

Lucian folded in on herself before Sypha prodded her back into place, carefully cleaning out the wounds Isaac’s manticore had left on her.

“I think you should have attended,” Sypha said, her voice quiet.

Lucian just mutely shook her head. 

She didn’t deserve to. Roisin’s death might not have been her fault, but she owed it to the knight to put things right.

Instead, Isaac was still loose on the world, and though she now believed he intended to make good on his promise to Dracula, it was the _how_ he intended to make good on his promise that scared her.

She’d be spitting in the face of Roisin’s memory, of Maud’s and Leon’s and the other knights’ grief had she gone.

The next night, while her lovers were asleep, she crept out of bed. Alucard stirred, but didn’t wake, and Lucian slipped away to Hector’s room to gather some clothes for him. With a thought, she vanished into the Infinite Corridor, and found Hector waiting for her; though he was still clad in his nightshirt, he had an age to his gaze that hadn’t been there before, his repaired hammer in hand.

Lucian wanted to ask how long it had been for him, but the words died in her throat as she held the clothes out to him.

“You told me you might need some time yet, before you could speak,” Hector said, and Lucian nodded, her breath catching in her throat. He accepted the clothes, and she turned away, only looking back when he put a hand on her shoulder.

“You made the best decision you could in the moment,” he said. “We both did.”

Lucian nodded again, biting her lip. 

Hector passed her the nightshirt, and she accepted it, folding it over her arm. “Bring that back to Cezar for me,” he said with a faint smile, and used the chronolith to open a portal back to where she’d left.

* * *

Trevor found her the next morning, curled up on the floor of Hector’s room, with Cezar tucked into the folds of the nightshirt.

He grit his teeth, but picked Lucian up, holding her tightly as he carried her back to their room. Cezar trotted at his feet, whining piteously. Trevor ignored the pug, but didn’t shoo it away as he settled Lucian in the bed and left.

“What _happened_ to her?” he said desperately to Leon that night. 

The vampire sighed as they looked out over the city together, the wind chilly despite the summer evening. “I’ve found people deal with trauma in a lot of different ways,” Leon said after a moment. “Maud by throwing herself into her work, for example—I myself am much the same, I think. You, Trevor, you try to forget. And Lucian simply went numb.” He sat down next to Trevor, glancing over at his many-times great-grandson. “She’ll be alright, in time. But what about you?”

“What about me, _what?_ ” Trevor snapped. 

Leon took a moment to gather his thoughts. “This is the first chance I’ve had to talk to you since the cave,” he said. “To really talk, Belmont to Belmont.”

Trevor snorted. 

“I hope I haven’t been a disappointment,” Leon said.

Trevor leaned back on his hands, silent while he thought. “Compared to the stories I grew up on? You are.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Leon said dryly.

“Piss off, you old bat,” Trevor said. “If you’d let me finish, I _would_ have said there are worse vamps to carry on the legacy of, but now I’m having second thoughts.”

Leon chuckled, a quiet sound, but warm nonetheless. “I suppose there are worse ways to be remembered.”

Trevor glanced over at him. “I’m not planning on letting us forget,” he said. “Not again. Between you and Alucard… any Belmonts going forward, they’re going to know.” He sighed. “And maybe this whole fucked-up mess can be avoided again.”

“It would take time,” Leon said. “The grudges between vampires and humankind run deep.”

“Yeah, I know that better than others,” Trevor said. He glowered out over the valley, propping an elbow up on his knee. “I doubt I’ll see it happen in this life, but maybe some future incarnation of mine will.”

“Maybe so,” Leon agreed softly.

Trevor glanced at him again. “The Morning Star,” he said, and Leon stiffened. “I think its purpose has been fulfilled.”

“It’s our family’s legacy,” Leon said, his voice carefully neutral. “And Sara’s dying wish.”

“Yeah, but did either of you know about reincarnation when she made it?” Trevor said.

“...No.”

“Dracula’s dead,” Trevor said. “The current Dark Lord’s human, and, Hell, even if the next is another vamp, there’s still ways to take them down, right?”

Leon’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “To think… I might someday get to see my Sara again…”

“Yeah, assuming someone doesn’t come along and stake you, first,” Trevor said, smirking. “Wouldn’t blame them if you kept doing the wiser-than-thou immortal shit.”

“Maybe we both have something to learn from each other,” Leon said. He hesitated, then put his hand on Trevor’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Trevor said. “Maybe.”

They were quiet for a moment, looking out at the night sky together.

“Think you’d be willing to come back to Wallachia?” Trevor asked. “For the wedding?”

Leon’s eyebrows went up at this. “I wasn’t aware you’d proposed.”

Trevor shrugged. “Not yet. But Sypha wants to keep the, uh, baby, and being realistic, it was only a matter of time. Might as well make sure the Belmont heir isn’t a bastard on top of being born into the most hated family in the country.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll be there.”

The two of them sat together in silence, watching the moon rise higher over the valley.

* * *

The day before they were due to depart the cathedral saw Sypha wandering the halls, lost in thought. It was unlike her to be restless before a journey, especially considering her whole life had been nothing _but_ an endless stretch of open road with only brief pauses in towns and cities along the way. 

Maybe it was the baby, she thought, her hands going to her abdomen even though it would be months yet before any sort of bump would start to show. She knew from the other Speakers that pregnancy was a period of huge change, in more ways than one, but there was more to her restlessness than what Alucard described as a shift in chemicals, whatever that meant.

It was the same sense of restlessness she got whenever she heard a Speaker’s tale that felt unfinished. The villains vanquished or the heroes defeated, the tales, the histories, there was always a sense of, if not the story coming to an end, the chapter drawing to a close. 

But where was the resolution here? The knights saw from the mirror that Isaac had retreated to his fortress, Hector was nowhere to be found, and whatever Lucian had borne witness to, she wasn’t speaking. Roisin was dead, and for what? 

Sypha wandered aimlessly until she found herself in the cloister garden, and nearly wandered back out before she heard a rustling in the bushes and moved a little closer. She found a large figure kneeling, almost hidden out of sight behind a bench before she came around it to see Maud, buried up to her elbows in loam.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, and Maud looked up, smiling wanly at her. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Maud said, and Sypha sat, taking a look at the seed she’d set on the paving stone beside her. “ _Briúlán_ _,_ ” she said, following Sypha’s gaze. “Irish roses. A gift from Lorenzo. I thought it would make a fitting tribute.”

“Will it grow here?” Sypha asked. “I’m not sure how different the climate is.”

Maud inclined her head. “Watch.”

She planted the seed and covered it up with the utmost care before holding out her hand; a green sprout poked through the soil, and before Sypha’s eyes it grew into a shrub that burst with buttery white blooms.

“It’s beautiful,” Sypha said softly.

Maud sat back on her heels, contemplating the shrub for a moment. “Thank you,” she said at long last, and looked up at Sypha. “A lot of these plants, without our care, wouldn’t be able to survive here. Lorenzo is the main caretaker of the garden, but we all have our favourites.”

Sypha got the sense she was going somewhere with this train of thought, and so played along. “So why do you plant them, rather than ones native to the area?”

Maud dusted her hands off. “Even the hardiest plants can still wither and die,” she said. “The point, I think, is to enjoy them while they last, and appreciate the beauty they bring.” She sat next to Sypha and sighed, rubbing her nose; a smudge of dirt was left behind. “I’m still young compared to Sieur, or to Roisin,” she said softly. “But I’ve still seen many loved ones come and go. Roisin was special to all of us, and her loss hits harder than most.” She smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes. “We had a hundred and fifty beautiful years together, and for that, I’m grateful.”

“I’m sorry,” Sypha said. She hesitated, something prickling at the back of her mind. “Your mortal friends, if you have any—do you miss them as much despite having less time together?”

“Yes,” Maud said simply. “The loss hurts in different ways, but I do.” She patted Sypha’s shoulder. “Lucian and Alucard care about you and Trevor very much. They’ll learn to survive, once you’re gone, but that doesn’t mean they will miss you any less. Grief is the natural result of love, in the end.”

“It seems it would be easier to never love at all,” Sypha murmured. 

“To guard against pain at the expense of joy is to never live,” Maud said. “Love while you can, Sypha Belnades. I promise you, it is worth it.”

Sypha smiled, even as her eyes stung, and she rubbed away the tears that sprang forth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It should be me offering my condolences to you, rather than the other way around.”

Maud lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I miss her,” he said simply. “But my wife would want me to honour her memory rather than mourn it. And helping others in what little ways I can—it helps me, too.”

Sypha reached over to squeeze Maud’s hand; her own was dwarfed in the knight’s massive grip. “You’ll always be welcome at our home in Wallachia,” she said. “You and the others.”

Maud gently squeezed back. “As you will always be welcome here,” she said. “Safe travels, Sypha. I doubt this will be the last time we see each other.”


	74. Epilogue

_After all of that, what more is there to say? The journey back to Wallachia took weeks without the use of the Infinite Corridor, and in that time, I regained my voice. It was halting at first, and I found it easier to write than to speak._

_Those words, the story of what happened with Isaac and Hector, Dracula and Lisa, Hell and the Corridor, grew into the book you’re reading now._

_We passed through Gresit on the way home, and I, in a fit of curiosity, stopped by the cathedral to see what had changed. Immediately, I could sense it was different; the consecration was back, and stronger than ever, and it was all thanks to Andrei—the altar boy whom I had kissed when we stole the sacramental wine together as children. Now known as Archbishop Ioveanu I, his legacy is remembered by history as restoring the Belmonts’ place in the church as thanks for saving the people of Gresit all those months ago, and leading the people in rebuilding after Dracula’s war on humanity._

_Trevor was less than pleased it had taken so long for the church to start weeding out the corruption within, but if it meant his soon to be growing family would be left in peace, he wasn’t about to complain, at least not to the Archbishop’s face._

“Lucian?” Sypha said sleepily from the doorway, and Lucian looked up from the tome she was hunched over, setting her brush down and flexing her fingers. Sypha came over to stand beside her, and Lucian turned her head, pressing a soft kiss to Sypha’s swollen belly. 

At her feet, Cezar lifted his head, tail thumping quietly against the floor.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Lucian said, sighing when Sypha’s fingers carded through her hair. “How’s the little one?”

“Kicking impatiently, like he can’t wait to get out already,” Sypha said, drawing away just long enough to pull a chair over to Lucian’s desk and leaning her chin against her shoulder. “I will be very surprised if this one isn’t Treffie’s.” She squinted at the illuminated manuscript. “How is the book coming?”

“Slowly,” Lucian sighed, sitting back and rubbing her eyes. “If it weren’t for Aeon having a finished copy, I might think this will never be completed.”

Sypha kissed the corner of Lucian’s mouth. “Come to bed,” she said. “I need somebody to warm my icy feet.”

“Isn’t that what your husband is for?” Lucian said, and yawned before she could stop herself.

“He’s with Adrian tonight,” Sypha murmured. “Remember?”

“Right… right.” Lucian got up and stretched, offering her hands to Sypha. “I’m sorry, between the rebuilding and getting ready for the baby, and working on the book, and—”

Cezar leapt to his feet and began barking; Sypha reached for Lucian’s hands before she gasped, her eyes going wide as she felt her stomach. “The baby’s coming.”

* * *

_Sonia Lisa Belmont was born after twelve hours of labour and a great deal of creative swearing on Sypha’s part. Lucian says she still cannot tell if the child is mine or Trevor’s; I suppose we will figure it out, in time._

_I think Mother would be pleased to be remembered like this._

_It turns out, however, that all the books in the world cannot truly prepare one for parenthood, and even with the four of us sharing the burden, most nights we go to bed exhausted. (Frankly, it’s why I have neglected to write any entries over the last few days.)_

_Trevor, despite his initial worries, has been a much more attentive father than I think most of us expected. Sypha says she never had any doubts._

_I myself have mostly assisted by taking care of the chores that always need doing. Perhaps I still have my lingering doubts about my own ability to be a father, considering the memory of my own still remains uncomfortably fresh._

“Adrian!” he heard Lucian call, rapping on the shutters of his window. Adrian set his quill aside and rose smoothly from his chair, opening the shutters to see Lucian hovering outside the room, grinning toothily at him. “Come downstairs! You should see the garden!”

Adrian leaned across the windowsill to kiss her, smiling. “I’ll be right down.”

He paused by his desk when she sank back out of sight, and picked the quill up again to add a few more thoughts.

_The renovations, meanwhile, have mostly remained in Lucian’s hands considering her growing ability to repair objects. Recently, she has been working on a garden; she insists I come see it at once._

* * *

“...the Belmonts have always fought monsters, ever since your great-great-great-great-great—”

“—Great-great-great-great-great-great—”

“ _Honestly_ , Trevor, are you going to make her count out every last one?” Adrian said in amusement, sitting beside Trevor. Gavril—Gavril Nicolae, at Sypha’s insistence—sneezed, and Adrian grimaced, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the infant’s nose.

“It’s important she learn this, Fangs,” Trevor said as Sonia kept counting from where she lay on the floor, her little finger tapping each generation on the family tree. Her other arm was thrown over Cezar’s back, the pug napping contentedly like he wasn’t being squeezed by a toddler.

“—great-great- _great_ Grandfather Leon,” Sonia said, pointing triumphantly when she reached his name. 

“That’s right,” Trevor said, leaning forward and turning the page of the book. “Ever since he and Dracula had their falling-out. But the Belmonts before us forgot about their history, which is why you and your brother need to remember that monsters aren’t always what people think.”

“Like Uncle Adrian,” Sonia said, sitting back against Adrian’s shins. She looked up at him with brilliant blue eyes, and he gave her a somewhat tight smile, ruffling her orange curls. “Or great-great-great—”

“We get the picture,” Trevor said quickly.

“Grandfather Leon.” Sonia pouted. “When’s he coming back?”

“The wedding isn’t for another three months, Sonia,” Adrian said.

“But three months is too long!” Sonia protested. “What if you and Aunt Luce don’t want me in it because I’m too big by then?”

Trevor laughed and scooped Sonia up into his arms, blowing a raspberry against her cheek. “No matter how big you get, you’re always going to be our little baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Sonia squealed. “Gavril’s a baby! He can’t even walk yet!”

“Don’t you worry,” Sypha said, coming in when Gavril started to fuss at the noise; Adrian hurriedly handed the infant over to her with no small relief. “If Aunt Luce and Uncle Adrian don’t want you in the wedding, I’ll singe the tips of their hair.”

“You are setting a terrible example for our children,” Trevor said, and Sonia flipped him off.

Sypha raised an eyebrow at him while Adrian laughed, and after a moment, Trevor laughed too, albeit more sheepishly.

* * *

“ _Laforeze was hesitant at first, even with the final wish of his old master ringing in his ears. The Brotherhood of Light were even more hesitant to trust the Dark Lord who had killed one of their own._

_"No empire is built in a day, and no allyship between enemies can be forged overnight. In the end, a tentative truce was formed: Light and Dark, working together to better the world, at the behest of the man who once wished so desperately to end it.”_

The Speakers were silent as Sypha lowered her arms; Gavril started to speak, but Sonia hushed him, and Trevor slipped the boy a sweet bun to keep him silent. 

Sypha’s grandfather rose to offer her water, and the Speakers began to chatter again. 

“You get better with every telling,” Lucian said as Sypha and Nicolae joined them; Sypha helped the elder to his seat before sitting and snuggling between Trevor and Lucian, and Gavril climbed into his mother’s lap from Lucian’s. 

“Thank you,” Sypha said, beaming. “I try.”

“When are you going to tell the other one?” Gavril asked. “About how you guys met and faced down Dracula together?”

“Well,” Sypha said, smoothing Gavril’s golden curls away from his face, “I was thinking since you and your sister know that one so well, you could show us tomorrow _just_ how well you remember it.”

Sonia gasped. “Our first story?”

Nicolae smiled at his great-granddaughter. “You’re certainly old enough, little angel.”

“Yes!” Sonia jumped to her feet and grabbed her brother’s arm, pulling him roughly off of Sypha’s lap. “Come on, let’s go practice!”

“Be gentle with your brother!” Trevor said. 

“I’m _fine_ , Father!” Gavril said, as he and Sonia ran off.

Lucian shook her head, looking after the children as they ran off. “They grow up so fast.”

“Not as fast as a dhampir, hm?” Trevor said, elbowing Adrian. Adrian elbowed him back. “But you’re right…” He dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed. “It’s probably past time I start teaching them how to use the whip. Uh.” He glanced at Nicolae. “Sir.”

Nicolae just gave him a dry smile. “It would be foolish of me to think after my granddaughter’s stories of fighting monsters that those two would be raised as traditional Speakers,” he said. “Speakers they may be, but they are also Belmonts. That is their legacy, too.”

Sypha squeezed Trevor’s hand. “Just so long as you don’t tire them out _too_ much,” she said, tapping her nose. “After all, I still have to teach them magic as well.”

“Truly, it’s fortunate they inherited their mother’s brains,” Adrian deadpanned.

“Fortunate neither of them inherited your inability to make a creative insult,” Trevor shot back.

“Please let’s not start,” Lucian sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It took us ages to get them to stop making each other cry the last time you two kept on like this.”

“I hope you mean the little ones, and not their fathers,” Nicolae said, and Trevor nearly choked on his drink while Adrian muffled his laughter against his sleeve.

* * *

_It should have come to none of us as a surprise that Trevor passed first. Adrian and I now think it was liver failure; even though his life certainly was better than before, he never really could give up the drinking. Some monsters, he just kept fighting to the end of his life._

_He told me once, years ago, that he used to think he’d go passed out in a ditch, or maybe killed by an angry mob, or eaten by a monster, but he was fine with that because he had nothing left to live for. After the Belmont home was rebuilt, he confessed to me that his biggest fear was dying early and leaving his family behind._

_I guess, all things considered, living to nearly seventy-two wasn’t the worst way for him to go, especially since he slipped away surrounded by his children and grandchildren._

_Sypha lived another decade and a half, and after she passed away in her sleep, we buried her beside him in the family plot._

_Adrian and I left after the family had time to recover. It never really hit either of us emotionally just what immortality meant until we woke up one day and the children we’d helped raise looked older than the both of us and our lovers were starting to go grey._

_I don’t know if I’m still used to it, nearing my second century._

“Finally working on that manuscript again?” Adrian asked when he knocked on the door to their shared room in the cathedral. 

Luka shook his head and sighed. “Just trying to get some of my thoughts out. What’s relevant, what’s not, just… dealing with some old demons.”

Adrian hummed softly and closed and locked the door behind him, coming over to put his hands on Luka’s shoulders; Luka hastily snapped the journal shut, internally wincing when he realised the ink would smudge. Adrian’s hands paused. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I wasn’t looking.”

Luka twisted around to hook a finger into Adrian’s collar, pulling him down for a kiss. “I know. Just instinct.”

“I’ll let you write in peace.” Adrian moved away, lighting the candles with a snap of his fingers; Luka hadn’t realised it was getting dark. 

“...Adrian.”

The dhampir paused in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt.

“It’s been so long,” Luka said softly. “Do you think Trevor and Sypha have been reincarnated, yet?”

Adrian’s face was pensive as he continued undressing. “I suppose it’s certainly possible.”

“I miss them,” Luka said, and his voice broke.

Adrian turned away. “I miss them, too.”

* * *

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.” 

Luka turned, their eyes going wide at the familiar mop of curls. “Lorenzo! Thought I felt some familiar souls lurking about!”

The two embraced, and then the smaller man held them at arm’s length, grinning when he saw the pride flags displayed on their shirt. “Which pronouns today, then?”

“They/them,” Luka said. “Adrian’s around somewhere—who else is with you besides Basile?”

“Well, Basile’s somewhere getting into the body glitter, and Gideon and Marietta are with him being scandalised,” Lorenzo chuckled. “Sieur sends his regards.”

“He and Sadie doing well, then?” Luka said. “She’ll have given birth by now, right? Dhampir pregnancy and all?”

Lorenzo’s smile widened a little and he leaned in. “I’ll tell you when Adrian gets back,” he said, and the two of them looked up as the dhampir approached, burritos from a street vendor in hand and a pride flag tied around his neck like a cape.

“I got extra napkins, just in case,” he said, and Luka accepted one of the burritos from him before hastily duplicating it and passing it to Lorenzo, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. “What’s this you wanted to tell us?”

“It’s Trevor,” Lorenzo said, and Luka choked on their food. “He’s finally back.”

“Well then,” Adrian said, and wrapped an arm around Luka, “typical Belmont, taking his sweet time being reborn.”

* * *

_I said to Sypha centuries upon centuries ago that were it not for Aeon’s finished copy, I would think I might never complete this book._

_That’s the trouble with time, especially when the subject you’re writing about has been pulled from all points of reality simultaneously. Saint Germain later told me he suspected that was why writings on Galamoth were so few and far between; it’s hard, after all, to write about something that essentially never existed in the first place._

_My already long memory now has even more gaps in it. So many pages of this book simply disappeared. All of that hard work for nothing. Saint Germain says I’m going to punch him the next time I see him._

And Luka did, metal fist connecting with the time traveller’s jaw.

“I suppose I’m going to do something to deserve that,” he said, rubbing the already-forming bruise with an air of sheepishness.

“Yes,” Luka said. “You do.” She folded her arms. “You have the chronolith?”

“I hope you realise just how much Aeon is going to resent me for this,” Saint Germain said, producing the stone from his pocket and rolling it between his fingers.

Adrian laughed dryly. “Believe me, we know.”

“Yes, I suppose you would. All that travelling in a straight line… it must get incredibly dull.”

“It has its moments.” Adrian looked down at the pug by his feet, who was alert, tail wagging like Cezar already knew what was happening. 

“Well then,” Saint Germain said, and smiled. “Shall we?”

Luka nodded, and Saint Germain opened a portal to hear a much, _much_ younger Luka, talking to the two Hectors. “Saint Germain said the future hinged on us.”

Hector— _their_ Hector—sighed heavily. “He always was a dramatic bastard.”

Saint Germain scoffed. “Talking about people behind their backs? _Rude._ Didn’t anyone teach you manners as a child?”

Cezar barked and sprinted at their Hector, leaping into the forgemaster’s arms. Luka smiled and leaned against Adrian, though it felt bittersweet to finally see the memory from this side of it, knowing everything that had not yet come to pass for those in the Infinite Corridor.

“I think you know what has to happen next, don’t you?” Saint Germain said, and flicked the chronolith at the Hector not yet aged from the experience of acting as Galamoth’s jailer. He caught the stone, and Luka’s heart ached at his somber expression.

“I do,” Hector said softly.

“Take care of that. My companion is going to get trapped in the bloody Library for a few good decades and he was very cross when he found out why I lost mine.” Saint Germain extended his hand and pulled the Hector they’d been waiting on through the portal, and Luka hugged him tightly. 

“Glad to have you back at last,” she murmured. Over his shoulder, she could see her younger self watching curiously; it was strange to see that face again. She caught the younger Hector’s eye, and gave him an encouraging smile.

And then the portal was closed, sealed forever, and their Hector finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I know time doesn’t exist within the Corridor,” he said, rubbing Cezar’s ears, “but the experiences lived could fill several lifetimes over.” He frowned, putting a hand to his temple. “I know you warned me I would likely forget, but even now, the memories are fading.”

“So _that’s_ how you knew,” Adrian said accusingly to Saint Germain, who merely shrugged and laced his fingers behind his head.

“Knew what?” Saint Germain said cheerfully, and right on cue, Aeon opened a portal behind him; he stepped backwards, grinning broadly. “Can’t wait to find out what I did to deserve that punch.”

“You just did, you bastard!” Luka yelled as the portal closed on them.

“He’s our younger selves’ problem, now,” Adrian said. He sighed and looked at Hector. “You said the memories were fading… does that include everything we’ve kept you up to date with?”

Hector considered for a moment, then shook his head. “The history lessons are still there,” he said. “And honestly, the things I’ve seen that you have yet to experience…”

“Come on, then,” Luka said, holding her hand out to Hector, and he took it. “There’s a whole universe still out there for us to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 months, or more precisely, 284 days from start to finish and more words than I ever thought this would grow to be. It's far from a perfect ending, and bittersweet at best, but I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. 
> 
> I might eventually do a collection of mini stories taking place over the centuries, but wanted the ending to reflect the reality of living forever: as a certain Doctor Who character said: "That's the trouble with infinite life and a mortal-sized memory." Even with better than human recall, there are still going to be things that slip through the cracks, time travel fuckery or not.
> 
> For those of you who made it this far: thank you for sticking with me.


End file.
